


After the Dark

by gatergirl79



Series: Something More Than Human [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Family Reunions, M/M, Minor Aiden/Cora Hale, Minor Isaac Lahey/Jackson Whittemore, Minor Peter Hale/Lydia Martin, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, No Beta Used, No Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rating May Change, Seizures, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles Stilinski Has Panic Attacks, Tansgenic Stiles, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2019-08-21 13:16:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16577225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatergirl79/pseuds/gatergirl79
Summary: When the whole of America is plunged into darkness, Stiles and his fellow second generation transgenics finally escape the evil clutches of Manticore. Free at last, Stiles is desperate to return to his home, his father, and the man he loves. Only the world isn't the same anymore. Fear and suspicion lurk around every corner, and with Manticore determined to recapture them, it might be the most dangerous thing Stiles has ever done.





	1. Some Assembly Required

**Author's Note:**

> I’m back!!!   
> Now, remember that this is a Teen Wolf AU that incorporate elements and characters from the Dark Angel universe, rather than it being a full crossover. Thus, it doesn’t follow the canon of Dark Angel particually closely. Meaning certain Dark Angel plot-points will not match up, and some characters may be OOC. – (I really did try to make the two work without changing too much, but found I couldn’t.)

 Stiles sat up with a gasp, sweat clinging to his bare flesh, his heart pounding as he blinked the dream he couldn't quite remember away. He startled when a cool rough hand brushed over his back, and he looked around to see a sleepy Derek staring up at him.

"What's wrong?" Derek muttered quietly, gaze flickering over Stiles sweaty face.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles shook his head. "Just a bad dream." He exhaled, allowing Derek to guide him back down to the mattress. He rolled closer, settling his head on the Alpha's shoulder, his arm falling across the man's ribs while he buried his nose into the crook of Derek's neck.

"What to talk about it?" Derek asked into his hair, the man's fingers trailing along his shoulder.

"I can't...remember." Stiles whispered, his heart continuing to hammer.

Derek pressed his lips to Stiles head, and gently said, "Well you're safe. I've got you." He tightened his arms around Stiles.

With a satisfied sigh, the teenager let his eyes drift closed once more. Comforted by his boyfriend's words.

The bright glaring lights had Stiles flying up on the hard bunk, the thin mattress doing little to keep the metal from leaving a mark across his back. Groaning, Stiles dropped his head into his hands, elbows digging painfully into his thighs.

Reality crashed back down on him like a lead weight and Stiles cursed his mind for taking him back to Beacon Hills, and Derek's arms. Throwing the sweat dampened sheets aside he twisted to set his feet on the cold concrete of his cell floor, closing his eyes once more while taking a calming breath through his nose. "Four hundred and ninety seven." he whispered into the silent isolation, "Just four hundred and ninety seven."

Admittedly it was somewhat ridiculous to keep counting down the days when there was every chance he was never going to see Derek, - or the pack. Or his dad again, - but it was the only thing that had kept him from going crazy.

From the moment he’d woken up strapped into an MRI machine, Stiles had been clawing to keep from totally losing his mind. It had failed him that first time, causing him to have a seizure and pass out. Something he wasn’t at all proud of. When he’d dragged his eyes open again, he’d hoped, as he’d done every morning since, that it was all a big bad dream. That he’d wake wrapped in Derek’s arms, just as he’d done the morning this whole nightmare started.

As it was, he’d woken surrounded by thick grey concrete, cold clinging to his bones. And that was that. That had been his life for the past two months.

Just like every morning, Stiles pushed himself off the small uncomfortable bed, flinching as his bare feet touched the cold floor. He stretched out his back, moaning loudly at the pop of his spine, then he padded over to the small toilet in the corner. Ignoring the ache of his arousal, Stiles emptied his bladder, eyes fixed on the stone wall.

With that done, he returned to his seat and waited. A few minutes later, the small letterbox on his steel security door slid open, and an aluminium tray was shoved inside. Stiles let it rest on the shelf until he heard the little door slide closed, then he was on his feet.

Back at the beginning, he’d refused to eat, a mix of stubbornness and sorrow, and maybe a little desperation. A small tiny part of his brain foolishly thinking that it would get them to let him go. All it ended up doing was leaving him half-starved and unconscious on his cell floor. What he’d experienced after that he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. He’d been dragged along to the medical wing, strapped down to another bed and forcibly fed. He was pretty sure their decision to use the old fashion tube down your throat trick had more to do with punishment and deterring him from trying again, than because it was the most effective method. – Whichever it was, it worked.

Taking his tray over to the put-up table, Stiles dragged the stool closer and begrudgingly tucked into his breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast; taking short sips on his orange juice. It would be all he’d get to eat or drink until lunch, so he made it last as long as possible.

Less than twenty minutes later, the letterbox opened again and an irritated voice demanded the tray back. Swallowing the last of his juice, Stiles carried it over and gave it his now customary shove through the gap. His only reply was that of the letterbox slamming shut.

Sighing, he shoved the stool back into the corner of the room and dropped down to the concrete. He hadn’t really been one for exercise before; that was more Scott and Derek’s forte. Honestly, he liked being 147 pounds of flesh, blood and sarcasm, it had served him well. But the boredom of being locked in a cell 24/7 was going to drive him crazy if he didn’t do _something_.

Not for the first time, Stiles wondered what Derek would make of his new body. He’d developed some much defined muscle across his arms and chest. Not quite to Derek’s standard, but certainly enough to gain him more than a few second glances at school.

He was just doing his hundred and tenth push-up when he heard the now familiar sound of his cell door disengaging. Taking a deep breath, he leapt to his feet and turned to await the guards. The door opened to reveal the now familiar face of X5R-494. Stiles preferred to refer to by his actual name though. “Hey Alec.” He grinned nonchalantly. “How are we this morning? How the wife and kids?”

It had taken a few weeks before the guard had relented and given Stiles a real name. Mostly, so Stiles would stop calling him Captain America.

He’d been reasonably decent to Stiles in the weeks they’d been acquainted, more so than his colleague. They’d even traded the odd snarky comment. Oh yes, he was a thousand times better than Tom, who barely even looked at Stiles, let alone spoke to him, and a billion times better than Dick, who had epic wandering hands. Stiles thankfully hadn’t seen Dick since the jerk had tried a little more than just copping a feel, forcing Stiles to break his face on the solid stone walls. To Stiles eternal surprise, he hadn’t been punished for that, in but rather had found a couple of energy bars on his tray for the next few mornings.

The man, who looked to be in his mid-thirties, huffed out a noncommittal greeting and waved for Stiles to step out, a hint of amusement in the man’s eyes that always put Stiles at ease. Alec was certainly his favourite guard.

“So what is it today?” Stiles asked lightly as he stepped out of his cell, “The swimming pool, gym or theatre.” Despite his easy tone, Stiles prayed it wasn’t the latter, his stomach twisting at the mere prospect of being laid out on an operating table and having his bones broken for the…what was it now? Twentieth time? He felt the bile already beginning to rise up in his throat and he angrily swallowed it back down.

“Classroom.” Alec answered quietly and Stiles couldn’t help but grin, even as he frowned.

He hadn’t been taken to a classroom before. “What’s the lesson?”

Before Alec could answer, a loud furious yell echoed from behind him, and he turned to see a guard come flying out of one of the cells. It’s back hitting the walls so hard Stiles couldn’t help but flinch. There was a rush shove at his back, and he turned back around. He’d barely taken three steps before a shot resounded behind him and Stiles stopped, spinning around horrified, only for Alec to wrap his hand around his upper arm and shove him.

“Keep walking.” The guard said firmly, already dragging a reluctant Stiles down another corridor.

They carried on in silence for a few minutes, Stiles mind playing over what he’d seen and heard. In all the weeks he’d been at the base, he hadn’t seen anyone but his guards and the doctors, leading him to believe that he was alone, which in hindsight was rather a stupid assumption. There was no way they were going to power an entire base to house one lone individual. Which meant there were others being held behind the thick walls. Were they all like him? He knew his mother had escaped with a dozen other X5s, though he had no idea if they were all women. If they were, had they also been pregnant?

Then the memory of Henry Tate filled his mind, he’d been looking for his daughter. Was she there?

“How many of us are there?” Stiles eventually asked, not really expecting an answer but needing to voice the question out loud.

“It doesn’t matter.” Alec muttered in reply, sounding resigned to his fate. “Just focus on yourself, kid.”

Stiles over at the man, frowning. “Is that what you do?”

Alec straightened, pressing his lips into a thin line, refusing to answer.

“There’s no one you care about? No family?”

Alec’s head snapped around to stare at him, just as they reached a door. “Behave yourself in there.” With that he shoved open the door and nodded for Stiles to step inside. When Stiles didn’t instantly move, Alec gave him a rough shove, causing him to stumble into the room, then closed the door firmly behind him.

Stiles scrambled to find his balance before he face planted the ground, his hand shooting out to grab hold of a nearby desk. When he was steady, he straightened and looked around, startled at the sight of an older man sat behind a desk. The man was staring at him, assessing him and Stiles instinctively straightened to his full height.

“X6-007” The man announced, eyes flickering down to a file open in front of him.

Stiles bristled at the designation, “I’m not a number, I am a man.” He smirked, moving to perch his ass casually on the edge of the table.

The man looked at him, eyes hard and unamused. “Sit down, 007.”

Stiles sniggered at the moniker, “I’m fine just here.” He replied rebelliously, shuffling back more securely on the desktop, kicking his feet up onto the back of the chair in front of him and folded his arms. There was something about the man that grated at his nerves, the kind of cold authority that always made Stiles want to hit back, any way he could. – Usually with his mouth. – He kind of reminded him of Harris, only…well, there was an air about him that Stiles had to admit, was a little more…scary. But like hell was he going to be intimidated by this man. He ran with werewolves for Christ sake. “So who are you, then?”

The man pushed back his chair in the same way John Stilinski did when he was seriously pissed, and Stiles swallowed thickly. “My name is Lydecker. I run this facility.” He announced, moving around his desk and marching closer to Stiles.

“Nice place.” Stiles remarked, trying to calm his frantically pounding heart, “Though I think the rooms could do with an upgrade. You’re never gonna get that fifth star with those shitty beds.” He smirked smugly.

Lydecker narrowed his eyes at Stiles. “Your file lead me to believe that aggressive indoctrination wouldn’t be necessary,” He announced coldly, “but it seems we may need to transfer you to neuropsychology before we can proceed.”

Stiles froze, “What?”

Lydecker didn’t say anything more to Stiles, he turned on his heels and returned to his desk, “494!” he called. The door opened and Alec marched in, back straighter than usual.

“Sir?” He saluted.

“Take him back.” Lydecker grumbled, closing the file violently and tossing it aside. “Bring me 009.” He ordered.

“Yes, Sir.” Alec nodded sharply, marching over and grabbing Stiles arm in a firm hold, before dragging him off the desk and out the door.

Stiles was dragged back down the corridors, his whole body beginning to tremble as fear and panic began to grip him. Half way back to his cell, Stiles legs gave out, but before he could crumple to the ground, an arm snaked around his waist.

He was distantly aware of being dumped unceremoniously on his bunk. His vision had gone black and a cold sweat had begun to take over his body. The sound of a door closing echoed in the room and he flinched inwardly. Then he felt a hand on the back of his head, lifting it off the flat pillow.

“Here, take these.” Alec’s voice was gentle in his ear.

Stiles tried to see what the man was giving him, but could only feel the familiar press of a capsule against his lips. He tightened his lips together, turning his head away.

“It’s fine. It’s safe. Stiles, take it.” Alec ordered firmly, a hand behind Stiles head.

At the sound of his name, he opened his mouth and allowed Alec to set it on his tongue. There was no water, so he was forced to swallow it dry, causing him to cough and choke.

“I told you to behave.” Alex muttered, voice strained.

“W-what a-are y-you…?” Stiles stammered over the questions, eyes blindly locked on where Alec’s voice was coming from.

There was a long moment of silence, then the sound of movement. “You should get your rest. You’re going to need it.”

There was another resounding bang as the door closed a second time, and then the familiar sound of the electronic lock engaging, leaving Stiles alone with his fear.

 

__(*o*)__/

 

Stiles woke to the deafening scream of alarms. He shot up on his bunk, vision still blurry from sleep. The room was bathed in red, and outside there was the sound of rushing feet and yelling. Getting up, he padded carefully over to the door and inhaled sharply when he found it unlocked. Swallowing his racing heart he pushed at it, peering out into the corridor. He could smell smoke drifting down from both directions.

Despite being confused, and still suffering the after effects of his earlier panic attack, Stiles took the chance and cautiously stepped out of the room. Turning, he glanced along the corridor to find his door wasn’t the only one open.

Listening out for guards, Stiles snuck along the corridor to the next cell. Pulling the door open and peering inside. What he found was a dark haired girl, strapped down to her bunk. Her dark eyes turned to him pleadingly. In an instant he was at her side, yanking angrily at the straps. As he did so, he kept looking up at her face, frowning. He was sure he recognised her.

Once the last strap fell away, she scrambled off the bed and headed for the door. Stiles chased after her, grabbing her arm. “Wait.”

She turned, ready to attack. Luckily, Stiles was able to fight her off, eventually pinning her to the nearest wall with his body, arm at her throat. “Just wait.” He said again. “If we’re going to get out of here, we need to work together.”

She looked ready to argue, but then she relaxed in his hold, her previously furious gaze flickering over his face. “You’re… You’re Claudia’s son.”

Stiles straightened, staring at her with wide surprised eyes, his racing heart clenching painfully in his chest at the mention of his mom. “Yeah.”

With his brows still pinched tightly, eyes roaming over her features for a long moment. “Let’s get the others.” He eventually sighed, taking a step away from the girl. Pushing all his questions to the back of his mind. They needed to focus on getting out of there.

“Others?” The girl said.

Stiles nodded to the other open doors, “We’re not the only ones here.” He took off before she so much as blinked, rushing to the next room.

Yanking the door wider, he squinted into the darkness and found another teenager. He was maybe a couple of years younger than Stiles, sat on the bunk, back pressed into the corner, looking scared and confused. “Hey.” Stiles greeted with a warm grin. “Want to get out of here?”

The boy didn’t move, and Stiles took a careful step into the room, hands up. “I’m Stiles. Look, we don’t really have time to like….freak out right now, cause they’re gonna realise the doors aren’t locked and come running, so if yeah wanna get the fuck out of this place, then you need to get moving.”

The kid looked at the door behind Stiles, then back to Stiles himself. Then he was scrambling off the bunk.

Grinning, Stiles turned, rushing out after him. In the corridor he found the dark haired girl half dragging an Asian girl out of her cell by her arm. She looked clearly terrified and Stiles shook his head, even as he hurried past them. “No time for introductions now,” he said with a tight smile as he passed.

The next cell was empty, so they carried on to the next. There they found a small boy, no more than four or five. He was huddled in the corner, face buried in his knees, shaking like a little frightened kitten. Stiles chest clenched at the sight, and he hurried forward, scooping the kid into his arms. “Hey, buddy. I’m Stiles. I’m gonna look after you, okay. You’re safe now.” With that, he spun around and rushed out of the cell.

Together they ran away from their cells and the sound of shouting. The smoke grew thicker, but they fought through it. As they turned the corner, the doors at the end of the passageway flew open and bright light blinded them for a second. They skidded to a halt, staring with squinted eyes, but all they could see were the silhouettes of three men. It wasn’t until they heard the man’s voice that they knew it was Lydecker.

“Return to your cells. Now.” The man ordered, his voice misleadingly soft.

Stiles swallowed, glancing over his shoulder at the others. He shifted the kid in his arms so that he could hang off his back where he wasn’t in the men’s line of sight. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the younger teen move to head back the way they’d come, only for the girl Stiles rescued to clamp a restraining hand on his shoulder, holding him in place behind Stiles. Turning back to Lydecker, Stiles fixed a smile.

“I think we’d like to check out now.” Stiles said with false bravado, “and I wouldn’t expect a good review on trip advisor if I were you. I mean, the hospitality here sucks.” He scoffed, fixing his feet to the ground and twisting his body towards the window to his left. From what he could see they were pretty high up, but it was their only option.

“Get them back to their rooms.” Lydecker ordered the soldiers at his side, “Shoot them only if necessary.”

Stiles watched as the two guards raised their weapons and took a couple of steps forward.

Stiles was about to dive for the window, when gun fire went off and he turned horrified to see one of the guards shooting the other. Lydecker looked equally as shocked, just before the guard shot him too.

Stiles took a step back as the guard turned toward them. “This way.” He said, and Stiles relaxed slightly at the familiar voice.

“Alec?” He frowned, surprised.

“We don’t have much time. Let’s move it!” he ordered with a yell, waving them all towards the door.

Stiles ran forward, calling for the others to follow him.

Alec led them through the corridors and down several flights of stairs, into the basements of the building.

“Were are we going?” Stiles demanded, shifting the kid on his back.

“There’s one more person we need to get.” Alec called back over his shoulder, picking up the pace.

Stiles glanced around at the others, giving them a reassuring smile. “So, I uh, guess we could be introducing ourselves, I’m Stiles. Stiles Stilinski.”

“Malia.” The girl he’d found tied to the bed replied, and like that Stiles remembered where he’d seen her face. _So much for identic memory._ He scoffed to himself. “Right, hey. Your dad’s looking for you.” He told her, and Malia previous stalwart features crumpled a little.

“K-Kira.” The other girl muttered quietly, looking between them.

“Liam Dunbar.” The nervous teen announced in a shaky whisper.

“Nice to meet you all,” Stiles grinned, “What about you, little one? What’s your name?” The little boy looked up at him, tears still clinging to his lashes. His reply was whispered into Stiles ear. “Well, everyone, this is Case.”

The other three all muttered a gentle hello to the boy, before focusing back on their jog along the dark basement corridor.

“What about him?” Malia said, “Are you sure we can trust him?”

Stiles stared at Alec’s back and shrugged. “Well, he did just shoot his boss, so…I’d hope so.” His instincts said they could, and Derek had always said he had great instincts. He wasn’t sure why Alec was helping them, but Stiles wasn’t getting that twisted knot in his gut that he usually got around bad guys, so he’d give the guy the benefit of the doubt. – At least until proven otherwise.

Ahead of them, Alec drew to a stop and pressed his back against the wall, waving for Stiles and the others to do the same. Which they quickly did. Stiles watched as Alec then stepped calmly up to the door and knocked. Casual as you like. There was a muffled voice on the other side of the door, clearly asking for a password.

“Chimera.”

There was a tense moment and then the door slowly opened. Stiles and the others flinched as yet more gun fire rang out, then Alec was rushing into the room. Too curious to wait, Stiles hurried down the corridor and into the room, stumbling to a halt when he saw a tall man shackled to the ceiling, his head turned to watch Alec fumbling with the locks.

Once he was released, Alec hurried over to the tall man, lifting his head, “You okay there, buddy?”

Stiles heard a gasp behind him, as they all stared at the man. Stiles himself did little more than narrowing his eyes curiously.

“Isaac?” the man asked, his voice rough and quiet.

“I’m sorry, Joshua. He’s not here.”

Joshua let out a pained whine, like a kicked puppy and Stiles felt a wave of pity flood through him. Tossing the shackles aside, Alec turned back to Stiles and the others, “Okay, let’s go. This way.” He said, nodding to the back wall. “Joshua, you think y’can help me?”

The tall man nodded, moving over to join Alec against the far left corner. They pressed their shoulders against the stone until it eventually gave way with a loud cry of protest. Stepping back, he waved the teenager’s forward, “Okay, kids, move out. Quickly.” He ordered.

“More tunnels.” Stiles complained with an amused sigh, rolling his eyes as he rushed down yet another dark passageway. He jerked Case up on his back as he jogged. “You okay back there, kiddo?”

Case muttered an affirmative, tightening his arms around Stiles throat and buried his face into Stiles neck.

Eventually they reached the end of the tunnel, where a ladder led up to the surface. Alec went up first, grunting with frustration as he shouldered the large metal cover open. When it did give way, they were greeted with a flurry of snow. Stiles felt Case shiver against his back, and he tightened his fingers around the youngster’s legs.

At the top of the ladder, Alec stared down impatiently at them. “Come on.”

Stepping aside, Stiles waved for the other’s to go first. Kira was quickly followed by Liam, then Malia. Stiles turned his head to meet Case’s gaze. “Hold on tight.” He ordered, setting his foot on the run.

The second Stiles head emerged, he inhaled a deep lungful of cold winter air. Alec reached to take Case from his back, only for the boy to grip Stiles tighter, almost choking him.

“It’s okay buddy, he’s one of the good guys.” Stiles encouraged. “I need you to let go, just for a few minutes, so I can get out, okay?”

There was another few seconds of hesitation, before Case allowed himself to be removed from Stiles back. Instantly Stiles scrambled the last few inches and clambered over the edge of the exit. His bare feet landing with a slap against the snow. He dropped his eyes, frowning. He’d completely forgotten he was barefoot. As were the others, except for Alec who wore heavy army boots.

The sound of sirens erupted from the distance, and they all turned in the direction. “We need to move. Now.” Alec said desperately.

Joshua dragged himself with a groan over the large concrete plinth that surrounded the exit, slamming the door closed behind him. He glanced around, marching over to lift a large rock. He let out another whimper of pain and Alec shoved Case back into Stiles arms, then hurried over to help the tall man.

Then they were off again, running through the snow covered woods that surrounded the base. When they reached the perimeter, they hurried to climb over, constantly aware of the approaching sound of men and dogs.

“You’d think they’d have electrified it.” Malia grunted as she scrambled up the chain-link fence with ease.

Stiles grunted in agreement, “But let’s be grateful they didn’t.”

“They did.” Alec said as they landed with a crunch of snow on the other side. When Stiles frowned at him, Alec clarified with a sigh. “There’s been a blackout.”

“What about the emergency power? You can’t tell me that there’s no emergency power in a place like this.” Alec met Stiles gaze and shrugged, causing the teenager’s frown to deepen at the revelation. A terrible feeling beginning to pool in his stomach. He lifted his eyes to the sky and stared at the brightly shining stars, a small voice in his head whispering that something big had happened, and it wasn’t good.

“We’re not safe yet.” Alec announced, waving for them to head further into the trees.


	2. Designate This

They kept to the woods for miles, the cold of the snow biting at the flesh of Stiles soles. The sound of the dogs fading the further they got away, but none of them believed that it was over. They wouldn’t just let them go, but at least they were out of the base, giving them at least a chance.

Stiles arms were beginning to burn, his back aching under the weight of Case. “We need to stop.” He called in a low breathless voice, still stiff and suffering from the after effects of his panic attack a few hours earlier.

“We can’t.” Alec replied, not bothering to turn around.

Huffing, Stiles jerked Case’s small body up his back.

“Do you want me to take him for a while?” Asked Kira, smiling softly.

Stiles exhaled, “That would be great.” They paused, Kira holding out her arms to the small child, only for Case to grip tighter to Stiles.

“Its okay buddy,” Stiles soothed, “Kira’s just going to carry you a little bit.”

Case shook his head, refusing to go to the girl, and Stiles sent her an exhausted smile, “Come on, little dude. Look at her, she’s so nice.” Kira flushed at the praise, causing Stiles to grin. “She just wants to help look after you.”

Kira took a small step forward, not touching the boy. “I promise, I won’t drop you. – Hey, we can pretend to be…knights. You can be the brave knight and I’m be your trusted steed.”

Case frowned at her, his dark brows pulled together considering. “W-what’s a steed?” he asked quietly, his warm breath playing over Stiles ear.

Stiles grinned, nodding for Kira to continue.

“A steed, is a horse.”

“A horse only really brave knight’s get to ride.” Stiles added hopefully.

There was a moment of silence before Case whispered, “Stiles is my steed,” tightening his arms a little more.

Stiles exhaled, closing his eyes in defeat.

“Just hand him over.” Malia grunted suddenly for a small distance away.

“If he doesn’t want to come to me, I don’t want to force him.” Kira scolded, meeting the other girl’s impatient gaze.

Malia rolled her eyes, “He’s just a kid. He’ll do as he’s told.”

Stiles frowned at her, his chest tightening at the cold dismissive tone. Was that how she was treated at home. Ordered around, treated as little more than a soldier in training. “He’s fine.” Stiles grunted, shifting the weight and taking a step forward, ready to continue on their trek.

 

__(*o*)__/

 

But the time Alec finally sort shelter, the dawn was beginning to kiss the sky. They’d taken a detour fifty miles behind, and began to head towards civilization. Now they were crouched in the tree lines, watching an old rundown farm house. The lights were all out and there was no sign of life anywhere. Stiles moved Case off his back, forcing him around so he could wrap the boy in his arm and keep him warm as they waited.

“You think anyone’s home?” Liam whispered, his arms wrapping tighter around himself as a shiver rippled through his body.

“I don’t hear any heartbeats.” Joshua informed them quietly.

“Then what are we waiting for.” Malia grumbled impatiently, let’s get out of the damn cold.

“This is close to the base, they’ll be by to check it.”

“They’ve probably already been.” Stiles countered, matching Malia’s impatience. “Come on, Alec. We’re freezing out here, and frankly, I need to rest.” He met his ex-guard’s gaze along the line, pleading silently.

For a few seconds, Stiles was sure Alec was going to argue, but then he exhaled a tired sigh and nodded. “I’ll go in first, check it out. Joshua, you stay with them. Any sign of trouble, take off.” He waved an arm back towards the wood. “Understood?”

Joshua straightened a little and nod. “Yes.”

Stiles watched Alec closely as he cautiously approuched the wooden house, keeping low to the snow covered ground. Of course, being dressed in black as he was, meant he stood out like a sore thumb against the pure white.

“You okay, Dude?” Stiles asked, looking down at the little boy in his arms.

“Hmm, hmm.” Case nodded against Stiles chest.

Stiles didn’t know how long they waited out there in the snow, the cold biting at his face, it felt like hours, but eventually Alec reappeared at the door, waving them all forward. One at a time they made their way towards the house. Liam heading across first. “You go.” Kira insisted, gently pushing at Stiles shoulder.

With a sharp nod, Stiles raced out from the tree line, rushing across the huge expanse of ground, Case secure in his arms.

He burst into the house and exhaled a relieved sigh. There was a fire already alight in the living room, it was small, but it was enough to chase away the cold. He felt Case shiver against him as the warmth slowly began to seep in. Liam was crouched down in front of it, hands outstretched. Setting Case down, the little boy remaining linked to him via their hands, he looked around. He was surprised that no one was there, it was a little after dawn, so Stiles would have expected the owner to be preparing for their day. He certainly would have expected someone to have come running when Alec invaded their home without so much as knocking. “Where is everyone?”

“Who knows?” Alec answered behind him.

Stiles turned to regard the man, his gaze catching on the floor beneath Alec’s feet. “Is that…” he tried to let go of Case’s hand so he could get a closer look, but the kid wouldn’t relinquish his hold.

Alec lowered his head, then sighed. “Yes.” When he looked up, he met Stiles gaze with the same detactchment Malia had shown earlier. “I thought you wanted a rest.” He muttered, nodding towards the living room.

With a frowned still etched on his face, Stiles turned, just as Kira came bursting through the door.

 

__(*o*)__/

 

Stiles couldn’t stop thinking about the blood by the door and the person it belong to. Where were they? What happened? Had there been an accident that had led to the owner of the farm being rushed off to hospital? When would they return, and what would they do when they did?

If anyone else had noticed the blood, no one had said anything. Instead they began to make themselves comfortable. After Kira had fanned the fire into a roaring blaze, they all gathered into a comfortable half circle around the fireplace. Kira and Malia were sat with their backs against the couch, shoulders together and feet stretched out towards the heat. Joshua and Liam had laid claim to the large armchairs. Liam curling into a tight ball, his head resting on the arm, as he stared into the dancing flames. Stiles himself sat on the couch, Case stretched out next to him, the boy’s head resting on his lap, with a blanket draped over his shivering body. As for Alec, he was stood by the window, his weapon gripped in his hands as he stared out at the white snow covered landscape.

Leaning forward, Stiles exhaled a relieved sigh at the sight of Case fast asleep. Pulling his lip between his teeth, Stiles carefully slid his hand beneath the little boy’s head and shuffled out from beneath him, replacing his lap with a pillow.

Free of his little shadow, Stiles stretched out his back, eyes drifting between everyone. No one so much as looked at him, all of them seemingly hypnotised by the fire. Looking around the room, he searched for some clue as to its occupance, padding over to a dresser where a set of photo frames lay face down. Lifting them one at a time, he frowned. The house seemed to have been owned by a small family. Stiles’ eyes flickered between the faces. The three small kids; two girls who barely look old enough for middle school, and the eldest, a boy, looking to be getting ready for junior high. The mom grinned proudly beside her kids and husband, in front of the house Stiles was currently hiding in. Her dark hair covered with a beautiful head scarf, speckled with gold.

As for her husband, he was large, tanned, and baring a deeply imbedded scar cutting along the left side of his face. There was something in the man’s eyes that spoke of darkness and pain, a look that reminded him not only of his dad, but also of Derek. The man had obviously been through a lot, had fought his way to this perfect house, a home for his family. Stiles couldn’t believe he’d just abandon it.

Setting the frame back down, Stiles headed for the kitchen, his stomach growling at the sight of the fruit bowl. “Hope y’don’t mind.” He said quietly, snatching an apple of the top and taking a huge bite from it, while his eyes travelled the room. Catching sight of the phone, he inhaled deeply, almost choking on the juice in his mouth. He coughed as he rushed over, lifting it from its cradle and beginning to dial the number.

When he raised it to his ear, Stiles frowned. It was dead. He hung up and tried again, but it remained silent. Setting the phone down with a deep sigh, Stiles looked around. Everything looked normal, undisturbed. Nothing like how the living area had looked when they’d arrived. Except for…

He moved carefully over to the basement door, bending to stare at the polished tiles, and the small drops of…

“What are you looking at?”

Stiles looked up to find Alec staring at him, his back straight. “You see this?” he asked, pointing to the blood drops.

Alec looked down and shrugged, “There must have been an accident. That’s why no one’s here.”

Straightening, Stiles looked around, his mind turning over itself. Attempting to solve a puzzle. “I…” he turned to look through the kitchen window, towards the barn. Its doors were closed, which wasn’t weird, but… “If it had been an emergence, would you have hung around to close the barn doors? And why only these few drops.” He looked back, past Alec, to the front door.

“People are weird.” Alec dismissed with another causally shrug.

Stiles looked up at the guard, taking a slight step back. “Why’d it take you so long to signal the all clear?”

Alec met his gaze, “Had to make sure there was no one in the house.”

Shaking his head, Stiles looked to the basement door again, then back to Alec. “What did you do?” he whispered.

“Nothing.” Alec insisted, his eyes growing hard.

“I don’t believe you?” It wouldn’t be the first time his instincts were off. He’d mistrusted Derek at the beginning, hadn’t he? And Ms Blake. His gut instinct wasn’t always right. With that thought in mind, Stiles jerked forward, yanking open the basement door and threw himself over the threshold.

“Stiles!” Alec growled, grabbing at his shirt.

Stiles was too quick though, he hurried down the darkened staircase, his enhanced vision guiding the way. He was a few steps from the bottom when he saw them, a pile of limbs on the dirt ground. His heart began to race. They weren’t his first dead bodies, regretfully. “What the fuck did you do?” He yelled, turning around.

Alec was right behind him and Stiles swung for the man, his fight or flight response kicking in. Alec caught his arm easily. “They were already dead.” He insisted.

Stiles yanked his arm from the man and ended up toppling backwards down the stairs, landing with a grunt on top of the dead. Quickly he scrambled off them, muttering an apology as he moved. Getting to his feet, he fixed Alec with a hard mistrusting look. “Dude, I thought you were different?” he snapped furiously. The light spilling in from the top of the stairs was blocked out and Stiles heard the incessant clicking of a light switch, but nothing happened. Ignoring the startled gasp, Stiles kept his eyes trained on Alec.

The man exhaled a tired sigh. “I’m telling you, they were already dead when I got here, all I did was….toss them down here.” He gestured at the lifeless forms.

“ _Tossed_ them? Who do you think you are, a UPS worker? They’re _people_.”

“They’re _dead_.” Alec argued. “Did you want me to just leave them where they fell? – Or would you have preferred me to leave _you_ out there in the cold while I buried them?”

“You could have called us in and explained, we could have buried them together.” Alec didn’t look impressed and Stiles knew there was no talking to him, “What did you do to the phones?” he added accusingly.

“I didn’t do anything to the phones.” Alec rolled his eyes, “The lines are dead, as is the electricity.”

“What?” Kira gasped muttered from the top of the stairs.

“Go check, if you don’t believe me.” Alec insisted, waving her off. “The refrigerator, the TV. Nothing’s working. – Can’t even get a cell signal.”

Stiles’ eyes widened, “You’ve got a cell?”

Clearly growing tired of the conversation, Alec twisted his body to lean against the wall and fished something out of his pocket, then tossed it to Stiles. The teenager just managing to catch it. “Look for yourself. Nothing is working.”

“You think it’s just local, or state wide?” Liam asked quietly.

“Don’t know, and at the moment I don’t care. All I’m worried about is Manticore coming after us, which is why we need to get out of here as soon as possible. So, rest, find some dry warm clothes and get something to eat, because we’re leaving at night fall.” With that Alec marched back up the stairs.

“What about them?” Stiles demanded, glaring after the man.

“What about them?” Alec replied, clearly irritated.

“We should bury them.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” Said Kira.

“And how exactly do you expect to bury them? The ground is frozen, there’s no way we could dig five graves before dark.”

“We can’t just leave them here.” Stiles snapped angrily.

Alec met the teenager’s gaze, brow raised in challenge. Stiles was no stranger to that look.

“Stiles!” Came Case’s panicked cry. “Stiles!”

Gritting his teeth and shooting the ex-guard a disgusted look, Stiles leapt over the bodies and hurried up the stairs, not wanting the kid to come looking and see what lay down there. “Hey, kiddo. You didn’t sleep long.” He smiled, pushing to the front of the group.

Case looked between them all suspiciously, before focusing on Stiles. “I’m hungry.”

The mere mention of food had everyone’s stomach’s churning, the sound like an echo between them all. “Okay,” Stiles smiled, looking around the kitchen. “Let’s see what we can find to eat.” It wasn’t as if the houses owners would be needing it.

While Stiles rifled through the cupboards downstairs, Malia dragged Kira and Liam to search through the closets of the dead family as Alec had _suggested_ , while the man in question marched back to the living room with Joshua, to once again position himself in front of the window.

 

__(*o*)__/

 

Stiles wasn’t one for cooking, there was a reason they lived on take out and salads, though as far as his father was concerned, it was for the sake of his health. But everyone knew how to make pancakes, right? – They weren’t as good as Derek’s. His boyfriend had a talent Stiles envied.

Stiles glanced over at the phone longingly. He desperately wanted to call home and reassure his family he was alive and free. It would take them days to get back to Beacon Hills, maybe longer.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah buddy?” He tore his eyes away from the phone to look over to where Case was sat at the kitchen table, some colouring supplies Stiles found in a drawer scattered in front of him.

“When can I go home?” He asked quietly, tears welling in his eyes.

Obviously Stiles wasn’t the only one desperate to see his family. “I don’t know, little man. Just as soon as it’s safe.”

Case let out a sad sigh that tugged at Stiles heart strings, and caused tears to fill his eyes. “Do you know where you’re from, Kiddo?”

Case looked up, straightening while setting down his crayon. “Portland.” He announced proudly, “415 North West Overton Street.”

Stiles smiled at the kid, nodding and shooting him a thumbs up. “Great job. We’ll see about getting you back there, okay. Back to your mom and dad.”

The mention of his parents had Case instantly curling into himself, his head dropping down. Dropping the wooden spatula against the edge of the pan, Stiles padded slowly over and pulled out a chair, lowering himself down and leaning forward on his forearms. “Case? Case, what’s wrong.”

The little boy shook his head and Stiles’ chest tightened as a tear was flicked off Case’s nose and onto the paper in front of him. The sound of a throat clearing behind him, had Stiles turning to see Alec watching him, a regretful look on his usually distant face.

The look alone was enough to fill in the blank spaces, and Stiles inhaled sharply, turning back to Case. “Oh, little buddy.” He reached out to gently grip the small boy’s arm and gave it a squeeze. If the boy’s parents were dead as he suspected, then… then who was there for the boy to go home to.

Case sniffled, finally looking up. “My grandma.” He announced, as if reading Stiles mind.

With a nod and a small shaky smile, Stiles whispered, “Okay, kiddo. We’ll get you home to your grandma, okay. I promise.”

With that, and another gentle squeeze of the kid’s arm, Stiles got to his feet and headed back to the food. As he lifted the spatula once more, Alec stepped up behind him. “We’re not going to Portland,” he announced in a low whisper, “We’re heading for the boarder.”

Stiles’ head snapped around to fix the man with a hard defiant look. “Like hell. I’m going home.”

Alec pressed his lips into a thin line, “What don’t you get? They’ll be coming after us.”

“I’m going home. – And so is he.” He jerked his head towards Case.

“Don’t be ridiculous Stiles, you have no idea what you’re dealing with. We have to get across the border.”

Turning his body fully to face the older man, Stiles glowered up at him. “If you want to head to Canada, fine, go, but I have people back home depending on me. People are dying.” Assuming that the crazy ass serial killer hadn’t been caught already.

Alec’s hand snapped out to grip Stiles arm, shaking him. “Do you have any idea who you are? Who you all are?”

“I’m Stiles Stilinski of Beacon Hills, and I’m. Going. _Home_.” He seethed, yanking his arm free of Alec’s grip. “

They stood there, staring angrily at one another for a few seconds, before Alec grunted in frustration and spun around, marching out of the room. Once he was gone, Stiles inhaled deeply and shot a reassuring smile over to Case, before turning back to the burnt pancakes with a sigh. And he thought Derek was an argumentative, stubborn ass.

 

__(*o*)__/

 

Almost five hours after they’d escaped the clutches of Manticore, they sat down to finally eat. It was obvious that Stiles was the only one in desperate need of food after months on a strictly controlled diet. Despite the edges of many pancakes being burn, everyone piled their plates as high.

There was no conversation as they ate, everyone too focused on filling their bellies. Even Alec ate like he’d been starved for a month, which seemed ridiculous as he’d been working _for_ Manitcore.

Only once they’d finished and Stiles sat there, slouching back in his chair, did he finally break the silence. “So, where is everyone from? Case here, is from Portland, and Malia is a fellow Beacon Hills resident, but what about the rest of you?” he looked around the table.

Kira was the first to speak, looking shyly across the table at Stiles, “I’m from San Francisco.” She said shakily.

“Cool.” He shot a look down the table towards Alec, “I’ve always wanted to see San Fran.”

“Don’t call it that.” Kira laughed, rolling her eyes.

“Okaaay.” Stiles held up his hands in faux surrender. “What about you, Liam?” and the boy shrugged.

“You don’t know where you’re from.” Malia huffed, disbelievingly.

“I don’t have a home.” He whispered, eyes fixed on his empty plate while he shredded a slice of bread between his fingers.

“Did you run away?” Kira asked gently.

Finally Liam lifted his eyes, looking around the table, “No. They killed my whole family, so there’s nowhere for me to go!” he snapped, shoving back his chair and storming angrily to the back door.

“Hey!” Alec snapped, “Don’t go out there.”

“It’s okay.” Stiles hurriedly said, leaping to his feet. Looking over his shoulder, Liam shot him a hurt, hateful look, and Stiles stomach clenched. “I mean, you’re not alone, okay.” His eyes pleaded for the kid to listen. “Look, I know how you’re feeling, kinda. I lost my mom,” Stiles exhaled a long breath, “She died a long time ago, but it still hurts.”

Tears filled the younger teen’s eyes, and he stared down at his hand on the doorknob. “It wasn’t just my mom, it was my dad and brother, too.”

Stiles swallowed thickly, “I – I’m sorry, Liam.”

“He’s right.” Alec muttered from his seat, “You’re not alone. You still have family. We’re your family.”

Liam scoffed, shaking his head. “Right. Because we’ve been through so much together. It’s not the same.”

“It’s not a platitude, I mean it literally. Your mom and dad were my brother and sister.”

Everyone’s heads snapped around to stare horrified at Alec, who couldn’t help but smirk at the disgusted looks on their faces. “Not like that. We’re not blood relatives, you can all chill out.” He slouched back in his seat, fixing his eyes back on Liam. “But we were all born in the same place, raised by the same man.” He glanced over to Joshua with a soft smile, the taller man, lowering his head.

Stiles frowned, “You mean Sanderman?”

Alec looked up with surprise. “Yes. Claudia told you?”

“She told me you were all experiments created by a mad scientist.”

Alec frowned as Joshua’s head snapped up, a hurt look in his eyes. “Father wasn’t mad. He was trying to save the world.” The taller man argued, his voice harsh yet soft.

Alec reached out and gripped Joshua’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “It’s okay.”

“Father was a good man.” Joshua insisted again sharply.

“Yeah, he was.” Alec nodded.

“Why would Claudia say such things?” Joshua asked, confused.

“Are you suggesting my mom lied to me?” Stiles growled, insulted.

Meeting his eyes, Alec shrugged, “Not exactly. It’s complicated.” He sighed, looking over to where Liam was still stood at the backdoor, watching the scene with watery eyes. “Sit back down, kid.”

For a few seconds it looked as if Liam was going to ignore the order and escape, but then he dragged his feet over to the table, retaking his seat. Slowly, Stiles lowered himself back down and stared accusingly at Alec.

Getting out of his seat, Alec strolled over to the refrigerator, groaning when he opened the door and found nothing but juice and soda. “I could really do with a beer right now.” He muttered, grabbing a _Coke_ and slamming the door closed, then dragged himself back to the table.

“They’re muslin, there wouldn’t be any alcohol in the house.” Stiles informed him matter-of-factly.

“How do you know?” Kira frowned.

“My dad’s a cop, I know how to read a crime scene.” Something passed over Alec’s features, causing Stiles to frown. “What?”

“Nothing.” The man sighed, shaking his head.

“So? I’m waiting for an explanation?”

Alec gave a wary sigh, “Look, you’re mom wasn’t lying, okay, she just… - We were created for a purpose…”

“Yeah, the perfect weapons.” Stiles interrupted with a bitter laugh.

“Exactly,” Alec snapped, “We were created to fight a war, when it comes.”

“Against who?” Kira asked fearfully.

“Stheno’s followers, and their emissaries.” Joshua interjected.

“Emissaries?” Stiles gasped, his heart jumping into his throat, eyes widening as they flickered between the two men. “As in, pack emissaries?”

Alec and Joshua stared at him with surprised eyes.

“Packs of what?” Liam asked, frowning.

“Werewolves.”

“Werewolves aren’t real.” Liam scoffed disbelievingly.

“How do you know about werewolves?” Alec demanded, leaning forward and locking gazes with Stiles.

“My… - I’m part of a pack. In Beacon Hills.”

Alec groaned, shaking his head. “What was she thinking?” He muttered, looking heavenwards.

“Wait, are you saying there are werewolves in Beacon Hills?” Malia laughed.

“Hello, are we seriously talking about werewolves?” Liam frowned looking around the table.

Stiles waved a hand at Joshua, “What do you think he is?” Instantly Liam’s eyes widened as he stared at the large man, eyes flickering over his contorted face. “I mean, you’re a werewolf right.” At Joshua’s nod, Stiles continued, “Why can’t you shift back?”

Joshua frowned, “Shift back? To what?”

“Human?”

“He can’t.” Alec interrupted, “He was born that way, just like our father. – So you’re parents are in Beacon Hills too?” He asked, turning to fix a frustrated look on Malia, who nodded. “Dammit.” He swore, shaking his head. “We had one command, go to ground and stay away from werewolves.”

“What, why?” Stiles frowned.

Meeting his eyes again, Alec exhaled a tired breath as he replied, “Because we didn’t know which packs could be trusted. We need to keep the seals secure. To keep you from falling into the hands of the emissaries.”

“Seals? What? There aren’t any seals in Beacon Hills.” Malia said, confused.

“Ohmygod!” Stiles gasped, eyes widening.

“What?” Kira frowned.

“The sacrifices.”

“What sacrifices?” Alec demanded, straightening and leaning closer with interest.

“There have… - Before I was taken, we were investigating a series of sacrifices committed by a Darach.”

“A what?” Kira asked, looking increasingly confused.

“A dark druid, an… emissary gone bad.”

Alec shared a look with Joshua, before turning back to Stiles. “It seems you win. We’re going to Beacon Hills.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite how this looks, this chapter is not me being political and is in fact influenced by an actual episode of Dark Angel, where the lead characters visit a small town and discover the horrific story of a family in the aftermath of the pulse.


	3. Designate This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long

_The shifting of the bed, drew Derek from his restful sleep, the scent of panic heavy in the air. Opening his eyes in an instant, he found himself staring at Stiles back, the young man’s flesh peppered with sweat. Reaching out, he pressed his palm to his spine. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, eyes flickering up to Stiles face when he turned to look down at him._

_Stiles shook his head, “Just a bad dream.”_

_Derek smiled reassuringly, curling his hand around Stiles upper arm and tugged his carefully down to the bed, shifting closer. Stiles’ head settled against his shoulder and Derek wrapped his arm around him, pressing a kiss to his young lovers head when Stiles buried his nose into Derek’s throat._

_“Want to talk about it?” Derek asked into his hair, fingers trailing down his shoulder._

_“I can’t - remember.” Stiles whispered._

_Derek listened to Stiles frantic heartbeat, “Well you’re safe. I’ve got you.” He tightened his arms around Stiles. A suddenly wave of fear and desperation flooding through him. Terrified that his boyfriend was going to be taken from him._

_He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost Stiles, not now they’d finally found each other. How would he cope without him? His anchor. “I lo…”_

“Derek!”

Shooting up, Derek groaned as he just about caught himself before tumbling off the couch. His eyes scanned the room, searching for the young man he’d just had in his arms, only for his heart to crumble when all he found was Peter staring down at him, bright morning sunshine pouring in from the curtains at his back. Inhaling sharply, he closed his eyes tight, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands. The ball of his palms pressing into his eyes until it hurt.

Peter exhaled a long sigh and bent to lift a bottle, waving it under his nose. Reluctantly Derek lifted his head to meet his uncle’s unimpressed glare, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing?” Peter remarked flatly, shaking his head and setting the bottle on the table. “You’re playing a dangerous game nephew.”

Derek’s gaze flickered guiltily to the bottle and he swallowed thickly. “I… - What do you want?”

“I want a great many thing. One of which would be an alpha who isn’t on a suicide mission.”

Shoving to his feet, Derek snatched the bottle from the table top and marched past his uncle. He knew the man was right, which of course only added to his anger. “If you just came here to lecture me, you can leave.”

“If you want to seek oblivion, there are safer ways.” Peter stated.

“But not as quick.”

Tossing the bottle in the trash, Derek continued forward to the sink. His legs felt like _Jell-o_ and his head was pounding. He felt weak and tired, and knew if they were attacked now, he wouldn’t have enough strength to win a fight. He could lose his pack. He knew he shouldn’t be doing it. Knew it could kill him, but…

After two months with no signed of Stiles, or the mystery woman on the bike, he was losing hope. He’d been so desperate, he’d even reached out to Christopher Argent, via Scott, but hadn’t heard anything from the man. Which of course made sense, in hindsight, the Argents had been working for the emissaries when Kate and Gerard had tried to kill his whole family, and there was nothing to say Chris wasn’t still working for them.

Reaching for a glass, he filled it to the brim before gulping down the cool water, ignoring the shame clawing at his gut.

The room was silent as he drank, refilling his glass three more times before he felt half-way ready to face his uncle again. Setting the glass down, Derek braced himself on the sink and hung his head. Exhaling a slow breath, his eyes still closed, Derek repeated, “Why are you here, Peter?”

“Lydia found something she thinks you need to see.”

Exhaling another tired sigh. “About?”

“The Nemeton. – And Stiles.”

Derek’s head snapped around, “What?”

Peter smirked, waving his hand to the basement door. “Shall we?”

Stepping away from the counter, Derek hurried for the door, yanking it violently open and practically jumping down the stairs, Peter on his heels, though at a more casual pace. Hurrying along the tunnels, Derek’s body protested against the sudden excursion, the _Wolf’s Claw_ still clinging to his nerves.

Over the past two months, Lydia had turned what they’d come to call the Nemeton Library into her own personal space. She’d had Peter drag down a desk for her to work at, and had been attempting to make sense of both the ruins carved into the trees base, and the ledgers they’d found scattered around the room. Lydia had complained constantly, muttering that this was Stiles thing. _“Well Stiles isn’t here.”_ Derek had snapped back a month and a half ago, before storming out of the room and never coming back.

Taking in the room for the first time in weeks, Derek was impressed to see how tidy it was. There was now two desks, either side of the room. One clearly in use, while the other sat empty. Most of the room was now home to bookshelves, each one stuffed with various volumes. His heart skipped as he caught sight of a map, secured to a wall, decorated with all Stiles notes. He hadn’t even realised it had been moved out of his basement. A sudden wave of anger rushed though him. “What is that doing here?”

Lydia twisted her head to stare at him, brow raised, then followed his gaze. Her own features sobered for a moment, before she looked back at the Alpha. “I thought Stiles would want it in the Library, once you got him back.” She stated firmly. Derek’s words died on his tongue and he exhaled, staring at the map. “I also got him a desk.” She waved across the room.

Swallowing thickly, Derek turned away from the wall. “Peter said you wanted me. What have you found?”

Lydia stepped over to the Nemeton. “Firstly, I’ve tracked down every name on this tree.” Lifting her hand, she handed him a stack of papers, and Derek let out a grunt as he took them. “From what I’ve learned, two of the five families, left the area all together. Obviously, your family stayed. Robert Talbot’s family left Beacon Hills but remained close by. Their descendants married into various families, three of which were the Lehays, the Reyes’ and the Suez, Melissa’s maternal family line.”

“So that’s why Jennifer went after them?”

Lydia nodded, “Isaac is the last remaining member of his line. Once she got rid of Melissa and Scott, that branch would have been cut too.”

“But Erica has other family.”

“I can only assume she would have gone after them next. She’d clearly been using the sacrifices to cover the murders, so we wouldn’t notice the pattern. Only three of those killed via the sacrifices where descendants. Heather Quinn, who was a Talbot, Edward Hilyard and William Dwight, who were both members of the Maris line. Alan Deaton was also one of his descendants. - Jean Colbert, the Argent’s ancestor, went to Canada, they stayed there until returning to Beacon Hills in the 40s, only to leave again… well, you know that.” Lydia cleared her throat. “Now here’s the interesting part. The Walkers and the Maris families both headed out of California.”

“This is all you have?” Derek snapped, waving the papers before tossing them on the table. “You’ve been at this for almost two months. – And Peter said you had news on Stiles.”

Lydia turned, glaring up at him, folding her arms over her chest. Firstly; “I’ve been doing this on my _own_ for two months. Do you have any idea how much time this takes up? This isn’t my thing.” She snapped angrily. “I’m doing what I can. – Secondly; I’ve had this information for weeks, but you’ve been too busy moping around in self-pity, to listen.” Derek’s eyes flashed at her, but she seemed unaffected. “You’re not the only one missing him! You’re not the only one that wants him back!” she yelled angrily, “But we’ve got an ancient goddess imprisoned beneath our feet, just waiting for her chance to escape and destroy the world. Making sure those last remaining descendants don’t get killed, has to be a priority. _You’re_ priority, _Alpha_.”

Derek stiffened, his teeth grinding as he fought the urge to reach out and rip her throat clean open. His temper had been growing harder to control over the last few weeks. He’d already come to blows with Jackson, Isaac and Cora, over ridiculous things that once upon a time wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest. He’d brushed it off, putting it down to his lack of sleep. – But deep down, he knew it was something more. “Fine.” He gritted out, “Continue.”

“Well, thank you.” Lydia sighed dramatically, walking around the tree. – Though whether that was because she sensed his anger and wanted to put something between them, or simply aimless wandering, Derek didn’t know. “As I was saying, the final two families are the most interesting.” She leant on the tree stump table, and pointed. “Jeremy Walker, had a relatively large family, who stretched out across the country, but only three lines have survived to this day. The Walkers, who have one living member, a woman named Meredith, who is currently a patient at Eichen House.”

“The mental hospital just outside town?” Derek frowned.

Lydia nodded, smiling. “So at least we know where she is.”

“The others?”

“Ah, yes.” She met his gaze, a gleam in their aqua depths, “The second line is the Berrisfords.”

Derek’s eyes widen, “As in….?”

“It explains why Jennifer had the boys. Much like with Cora, she was planning on sacrificing them once they’d done all her dirty work.” Lydia informed him, marching over to her desk where she snatched up a print out and handed it over to him. **Twins kidnapped from local playground.**

Derek inhaled a deep breath, an acid-like ball of guilt settling in his stomach. “They said they’re pack was murdered, that’s how they ended up with Jennifer. That she was saving them from…”

“I think that might be partially true.” Lydia said. “They were stolen when they were six. I think, going from what Alicia said, I think they were kidnapped by a wolf pack and then passed, or sold, on.”

“Do they know?” Derek asked slowly.

“You mean already? I doubt it. They would have said something before now. – But I figure as Alpha, you should be the one to tell them.”

Derek flinched at the thought, of innocent humans being taken and traded between packs. “I can’t believe… Why didn’t anyone do something?” He twisted his head at the sound of Peter entering the room.

The older man perched his ass on the edge of Stiles desk and crossed his legs at the ankle, folding his arms. “They were likely Emissary packs, and stole the twins for the same reason Jennifer did.”

“Then why would she kidnap them and kill the pack.” Derek frowned.

Peter shrugged. “Power. - Whomever frees the goddess, gets the riches, right? That’s what she said.”

There was a moment of silence, Derek staring down at the news print out, “Where they wolves before…?”

“I can’t really tell, it’s not as if there’s a werewolf database.”

“Perhaps that’s something Stiles can look into when he gets back.” Peter scoffed from the doorway, making the pair turn. “What? You both know he’ll jump at the chance.”

Swallowing thickly, Derek ignored his uncle, and the dark voice in his head that whispered Stiles was never coming back. That he’d, _they’d_ lost him forever. – He turned sharply back to Lydia. “What else? Peter said you had something on Stiles.”

Lydia’s eyes shot over Derek’s shoulder, narrowing angrily. Peter shrugged, “You wanted to speak to him about this.” He waved at the tree, “Besides, it’s kind of about Stiles.”

Inhaling slowly through her nose, she turned back to Derek. “It’s _not_ about Stiles _,_ it’s about the Sheriff.”

Derek’s spine stiffened, suddenly worried, “What about him?”

“That third Walker line.” She said, looking to the table top, “They moved to Colorado and… - The Sheriff’s grandmother was a Walker.”

“What?”

“He’s part of this.” She waved at the table. “It’s probably what drew him back to Beacon Hills. - It’s almost as if it’s been drawing the bloodlines back.” Lydia added thoughtfully.

“And I’ll assume, like with the twins, you thought this was news better coming from me?” Derek asked, tone flat, as worry curled around his insides. If John Stilinski was a descendant, that meant he was a target.

Lydia shrugged nonchalantly.

“Anything else?”

“Just one more thing. Antonio Martis.”

“What about him?”

“His family moved to Florida, and seemed to have remained there. Thing is,” she looked up, meeting Derek’s tired gaze, “his family line is gone.”

“What?” Derek frowned, confused.

“I checked and double checked. They’re gone. Not a single remaining branch.”

Turning, Derek dropped his gaze to the table, frowning. “That’s impossible.” He muttered, “Martis was still guarding Stheno.”

“I know.”

 

___(*v*)___

 

The conversation with the twins went as well as Derek had expected. Filled with disbelief, anger and sadness. Ethan and Aiden had been taken so young that they had indeed no real memory of their lives before the pack.

“Lydia can only find so much.” Derek said as the brothers sat silently. Ethan staring down at the printed news report, while Aiden stared blankly out the kitchen window. “If you want to find your family, we’ll need the Sheriff’s help.”

“And then what?” Aiden snapped, “Are they wolves too? IF not what are we meant to tell them about this?” His eyes flared blue and he flicked his hand to reveal his claws.

Derek inhaled slowly through his nose, his tongue slipping out between his lips. He wanted to tell them their parents would be so glad to have them home, that they wouldn’t care. Only he knew that wasn’t guaranteed. He remembered how Melissa had reacted to Scott when she’d first discovered his change. How the Argents reacted when one of their own got bitten.

“If they’re descended from one of the five, then… - Maybe they’ll understand.” Ethan said hopefully, looking almost pleadingly at his brother.

“Assuming they even know.” Aiden scoffed, “If they don’t know, they’ll freak out. Then what? They’ll either try to kill us, or kick us out. We’ll be no better off than when we were part of the pack.”

Derek looked between the brothers as they stared, a silent argument going on between them.

There was always a chance they could be dead, if the Emissaries were trying to wipe the line out, but he didn’t bring that up. It had probably already occurred to them. “There’s no harm in asking the Sheriff to look into it.” Derek said quietly.

Aiden shot Derek an unimpressed look and shoved back his chair. “Do whatever the hell you like. I’m not interested.” He snapped, storming out the backdoor and disappearing into the woods.

“He just…” Ethan sighed.

“Scared.” Derek finished for him.

Ethan nodded and slowly got to his feet. Before he moved to follow his brother, he stared down at Derek. “If the Sheriff does find anything, we’ll decide then.”

“Okay.” Derek grunted, nodding.

 

___(*v*)___

 

“Wait, let me get this straight.” The Sheriff sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Not only am I descended from one of these guardian things, which has put me on some kind of hit list, but I’m also distantly related to the werewolf twins who were helping kill innocent people.”

Derek took a slow deep breath, “They were being manipulated by…”

John held up his hand, “Don’t.” he sighed warily. “The only reason I haven’t pulled them in, is because there’s no way I can possibly make a case against them. – At least the girl is locked up.”

Derek gritted his teeth and nodded. As much as he hated how the whole situation had effected Boyd, he couldn’t deny that he shared the Sheriff’s relief that Alicia wasn’t around. Sure he wished his beta could have had the same happy reunion as he’d had with Cora, but the fact was, Alicia Boyd had gone through too much, and been too broken to be allowed to simply wander free. There had been only two options; death, or incarceration.

Despite his own belief that Alicia, and the world, would be better if she were dead, Jeremy knew somewhere safe, which was tailored to her _needs_. Boyd had travelled to Boston with Jeremy and Nick, where he’d stayed until she was settled. He’d also had meetings with Logan while he was there, which Derek was eternally grateful for.

“I understand your frustration, Sheriff.” He reassured.

“Do you?” John challenged. “I swore to protect this town, and I’ve been doing a terrible job of it over the last year and a half. – I can’t even protect my own son.” He added, defeated.

Derek opened his mouth to argue, only to snap it shut once more, because they both knew, despite their best efforts, it was beginning to look as if they’d never find Stiles. Derek had spent over a month hunting down every lead, only to find nothing. They weren’t just looking for a random kidnapper, they were going up against a top secret government project. The kind of people who knew just how to make other people disappear without a trace. That was what was killing them both.

Exhaling a frustrated, tired sigh, the Sheriff leant forward on his desk, burying his head in his hands. Derek watched him with a painful stab of guilt. He’d let the man down by not protecting Stiles, and he was letting Stiles down by not looking after his father.

He looked a decade older in just twenty-four hours. The wrinkles around his eyes seemed deeper, with ever darkening circles beneath them. His shirt was creased and he was gaining a grey speckled beard that could almost rival Derek’s own. Frankly, the man would probably be wasting away if not for Melissa insisting on feeding him every twelve hours.

As Derek sat there facing the man, he became away of the scent of tears and his throat tightened painfully. Dropping his gaze to his lap, he chewed at the inside of his lip, his leg bouncing anxiously.

With a soft groan, John lifted his head. “I’ll look into the boy’s case and see if I can track down the parents.”

“They don’t want them to be informed.” Derek hastily said, looking up to meet the older man’s gaze. “They, _and_ we, just need to know if they’re alive.”

John nodded, “I’ll look into it personally.”

“Thank you.” Derek exhaled.

They fell silent for a few tense minutes, before Derek slowly pushed himself out of his chair.

“How are you doing?” John asked as Derek made his way to the door, causing him to pause and look around, surprised.

“Sir?”

“You look almost as bad as I do, son. Are you…alright?”

Derek lowered his gaze and exhaled, lifting his fingers to scratch uncomfortably at his beard. “I – I’m fine.” He lied.

John nodded, understandingly. “Just don’t do anything stupid, son. – And don’t think you can numb the pain, it only makes matters worse.”

With a frown, Derek slowly inclined his head. “Yes, Sir.” With that he reached for the handle, pulling the door open slowly.

“Can you ask Parrish to come in on your way out, please? – And I’ll call you when I get information.”

“Of course, Sheriff. Bye.” He said over his shoulder as he stepped out of the office, carefully closing the door behind him.

Derek marched between the rows of desks until he found the right name plate. He paused beside the one nearest the door and knocked his knuckles on the polished wood, “The Sheriff wants to see you.” Parrish frowned up at him, unsteadily getting to his feet. “Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Parrish grunted, grabbing a file and skirting past Derek.

Usually Derek wouldn’t have paid the slightest bit of attention to the man and simply left, but something familiar caught his notice. A scent. Sharp and unnatural. Freezing, he snapped around to watch the man vanish into the Sheriff’s office, his heart beginning to hammer with renewed energy.

 

___(*v*)___

 

“What do you know about the Sheriff’s deputy? Parrish.” Derek demanded.

Scott frowned, his shoulder pressed against the frame of his front door. “What do you mean?”

“How long has he worked for the Sheriff?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, “I think he’s new. Joined after Matt killed…” He trailed off as the memory of the murder of half the Sheriff’s department. Swallowing hard he continued, “Why?”

“Does he have family in Beacon Hills?” Derek demanded, “Where is he from?”

“How should I know?”

Derek growled in frustration, “How do you _not_ know?” he snapped.

“Because, in case you forgot, Stiles barely spoke to me the last year, which means he didn’t fill me in on what was happening at the Sheriff’s station.”

Exhaling, Derek lowered his head. Things weren’t any better between them. The only reason Scott was even on speaking terms with Derek at all, was because of Melissa. However, just because Scott had accepted that Deaton had manipulated him from the start, and that Derek wasn’t actually the villain of the piece, the deep rooted mistrust had done too much damage to be brushed aside so easily.

“Fine.” Derek sighed, turning to leave.

“Hey, why are you suddenly so interest in one of the Sheriff’s deputies? You looking for your next conquest?” He spat at the retreating Alpha.

Derek turned his head sharply, eyes flaring a furious red, which instantly made Scott take a small step back. He didn’t give the teenager a reply, instead marching away from the McCall house.

 

___(*v*)___

 

The self-deprecating part of Derek that housed his ever burning flame of guilt and shame scolded him for not picking up on it sooner. Of course, logically he knew there was no reason for him to. It wasn’t as if he spent his time around the Sheriff’s office. And he’d only noticed Stiles unnatural chemical signature during his seizures.

It had been a fluke he’d picked it up at all, especially considering what he’d taken the previous evening, but clearly the young deputy wasn’t drinking enough milk, which was why he was currently parked up outside the convenience store, waiting for the young man to re-emerge.

He’d followed him from the station after his shift had ended, and would continue to follow him home, - or wherever else he went, in the hopes of getting some answers. Because after two months, Derek felt he might have finally been given a break.

He’d spent most of the day hunting down everything he could on Jordan Parrish, which was more difficult that Stiles made it look. Of course, Stiles would not only have access to his father’s files, but also inside knowledge. He wouldn’t draw attention if he wandered into the Sheriff’s office and started snooping around. – As it was, all Derek had been able to find was what Scott had already told him. Jordan Parrish had arrived ten months ago to take up an open position in the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department. Before that, it was as if he hadn’t existed. – Or perhaps that he’d been working for people who didn’t want him to exist.

Derek sat, his fingers tapping at the steering wheel as he watched through the convenience store window. He tracked Parrish as he made his way towards the counter. Once he’d paid for his items, he made his way to the door, then to his patrol car parked just outside.

Shifting in his seat, Derek prepared to hit the gas the second Parrish drove off, when a shiver rushed through him, causing the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck to stand on end, and his nose wrinkled as a sharp tangy scent like battery acid filled his nostrils, settling across his tongue. Derek cleared his throat, and lifted his gaze to the sky. Everything looked normal, until his enhanced senses flared to life and he saw a strange greenish ripple across the night’s sky, reminding him of the northern lights.

Suddenly his engine died. Derek frowned, leaning forward to try the ignition only to realise there was no light coming from the store across the street, or the lamps around him. His gaze instantly went to the patrol car, to see Parrish climbing back out of his vehicle, looking around with an equal look of confusion on his face. Then he was reaching into the car for his radio.

_“Dispatch? Dispatch, this is Parrish?”_

When there was no reply, the man turned to look directly at Derek.


	4. Before the Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been a while since I last posted, my muse had been rather focused on another fic at the moment, but I’m forcing her back to this one. I hope it’s alright.   
> Unlike the other chapter titles, this one isn’t an episode title, but rather the title of one of the Dark Angel tie-in novels.

They were just gathering their things, or more precisely the dead family’s things, ready to move out, when the sound of approaching engines caused them all to freeze. With his heart racing, Stiles hurried to the window, where Alec was still standing guard. Stiles peered through the small gap in the curtain and felt his stomach drop.

Making their way up the dirt drive were at least four ancient looking trucks that seemed like something out of a forties movie. Stiles shot Alec a nervous look and the man waved his hand, signalling for everyone to grab the stuff and hurry out the back door.

Despite his desire to hesitate and find out what was happening, he stepped away from the window and rushed through to the kitchen. Pausing only long enough to lift Case off the counter, the kid wrapping his arms securely around Stiles neck, then he snagged his backpack off the chair, and ran for the door. Alec was there, waving everyone through while his eyes remained locked on the door at the front.

Holding Case close, he followed the others as they headed for the thick woods beyond the barn. He glanced back only once to check that Alec was there, before focusing on getting to cover.

If they’d have been human, there was no way they could have made it in time, but thankfully they weren’t. Crashing into the huge snow covered undergrowth, Stiles stopped, breathing heavily and turned to watch the house, the curiosity he’d felt when he’d seen the trucks too strong to ignore any longer. He crouched down and used his enhanced eyesight to watch as three men came crashing out through the back door, guns in hand. His chest tightened as he caught sight of a Sheriff’s uniform, reminding him of his father.

“Come on.” Alec ordered, tugging at Stiles jacket collar, but Stiles couldn’t leave. Something kept him fixed to the spot, confused by the men’s arrival.

Logic told him that it was just the local Sheriff checking in on the family, especially if something had happened. His gut however was saying something different. If it were just a check in, then why not come with deputies? Why bring what looked to be a posse gathered at the local bar? – And why was there a strong scent of gasoline on the air. No, there was something else going on here and Stiles’ natural curiosity had to know what.

The three men that had stepped onto the back porch began to wave their torches around, and Stiles held his breath.

“There.” One of the men yelled, pointing to the tracks in the snow.

“Come _on_ Stiles.” Alec snapped furiously, yanking once again on the back of his jacket, demanding he stand.

Stiles heart leapt into his throat and he scrambled to his feet, turning to retreat further into the dark of the woods, but before he could, a loud yell came from the barn and he turned back in time to see a young man in familiar bluish-grey sweats, exploding out of the red building.

Both he and Alec stopped, watching as what they assumed was an X6 took down the three men. Stiles looked up at Alec as he stepped forward, revealing their position. “Hey!” he called in a low voice that he knew only the teenager would hear, then waved him closer.

The guy hesitated for a long few seconds, looking back at the house, before finally breaking into a high speed run. He crashed through the trees a few seconds later, almost slamming into Stiles on the way.

“Sorry.” He apologised breathlessly, looking directly at Stiles, face flushed and lip curling.

Narrowing his eyes at the other teenager, Stiles gritted his teeth, his ever present Spidey sense humming in the back of his mind.

“Come on.” Alec grunted, shoving the stranger forward, then grabbing Stiles arm and doing the same to him.

The others hadn’t gotten far. They stopped as they heard Stiles, Case, Alec and the newcomer coming up behind them. Eyes widening as they took in the new arrival.

“Hey.” Malia huffed, nodding to the young man. “Who’s that?”

“That’s a good question.” Stiles gritted out, moving away from his fellow teenager and over to his friends.

The stranger looked between them all, sending them a soft smile. “I’m Theo.” He introduced himself. “I guess you escaped too.”

Stiles handed Case off to Kira without argument. The pair having bonded over the past few hours at the house. Then he stepped forward. “How’d you get out?”

Theo stared at him, his smile faltering, “I was in the medical wing when the lights went out.” He stated, as if that was enough of an explanation.

“And?” Malia pressed, stepping up next to Stiles and crossing her arms defensively.

“He’s one of you.” Alec interrupted, looking tiredly between the teenagers, “You remember the commotion this morning.” He added, meeting Stiles eyes meaningfully. “It was him.”

Stiles frowned, looking from Alec to Theo. His instincts where still on high alert, even as the guy pulled up his shirt, revealing the bandage and the bruises.

“I was lucky they didn’t kill me. – But I had to try.”

Stiles glanced at Malia, who seemed to be buying the strangers story. And why wouldn’t she? After all, Alec was stood there vouching for him. He had injuries. – And Stiles himself had heard the fight, and the gunshot. – Yet somehow, his instincts were still yelling that the guy was off.

“We can’t stand around here all day.” Alec snapped tersely, they’ll probably send out a search party.

“Or worse, contact Manticore.” Theo added.

As much as Stiles wanted to argue, not to mention how he wanted to interrogate Theo some more, he knew he was right, and like hell were they getting captured again because of his stupid paranoia. Turning away from Theo, he shifted his bag on his shoulder.

Before they could get moving though, the scent of burning reached them and they all twisted around to stare back the way they came. Looking up, the night sky began to burn orange, and Stiles frowned.

“Is that the house?” Kira asked quietly. “Why would they burn it?”

“Maybe it’s some kind of weird custom?” Liam muttered.

“No.” Stiles shook his head, “They’re burning it to hide the evidence.”

“What?” Malia frowned, “Why?”

“Obviously because they don’t want anyone to know they’re the ones that killed them.” Theo stated, and Stiles stared at him, eyes searching. The guy met his gaze for an intense moment, before Stiles tore his eyes away and turned.

“Let’s go.” Alec ordered, waving his weapon at them. “I’ll take the rear.”

 

__(*_*)__

 

An especially cold gust of wind blew past Stiles ears and he shivered, drawing his shoulders up closer to them to help fed off the icy chill. His fingers felt just as cold around the straps of the backpack, despite the too-small gloves he was wearing. He wondered just how cold it actually was, if he was shivering through the layers of ill-fitting clothing, considering his usual regulated temperature.

He didn’t run hot the way Derek did, he simply had a higher tolerance for extreme heat and cold, meaning it would have to be seriously cold – or hot – for him to even feel it. And man, was he _feeling_ it.

The thought of Derek’s hotness brought a sense of warmth to his body, and he allowed his mind to linger on his boyfriend as he trekked through the snow. They’d only shared a bed once, but boy had it been awesome. He could still remember the way the Alpha’s hot skin had felt beneath his palm. The solid weight of Derek’s body pinning him to the mattress as they rutted together like desperate teenagers. – Okay, he _was_ a desperate teenager, but Derek wasn’t, and the fact that he could make him behave like one, well it was one hell of an ego boost.

Stiles licked at his cold chapped lips while conjuring the memory of Derek’s rough, unshaven jaw. He loved the way the short hairs had both tugged and tickled the skin of his lips. When the wind swept past his ears again, he could almost hear Derek’s throaty moan while they rocked against one another, driving each other closer to the edge.

“Penny for them.” An unfamiliar voice huffed, ripping him from the comforting memory.

“What?” Stiles snapped, turning sharply to find who was invading his personal time. He exhaled a frustrated grunt when he saw Theo watching him, lip curling at the corner.

“You seemed to be enjoying it, whatever it was.” Theo said, tone soft and teasing. If Stiles didn’t know better, he might almost think the guy was flirting with him. “Care to share?” Theo added with a laugh.

Glaring at the guy, Stiles gritted his teeth. “No.” He snapped, furious at the mere idea of sharing Derek with anyone. Least of all this jerk. “I was thinking about my boyfriend.” He added firmly, just to be sure the newcomer knew he was spoken for.

“Oh.” Theo hummed, lifting an inquisitive brow while his eyes travelled over Stiles. Which seemed ridiculous, not only was he wrapped up like a damn Eskimo, but they’d only met two hours ago. “Lucky boyfriend.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and exhaled an irritated sigh before speeding up, leaving the guy behind. He squeezed himself in-between Malia and Kira as they marched through the snow, Case clinging to Kira’s neck as he rested his head against her shoulder, eyes closed.

“Making friends?” Malia huffed humorously, looking back over her shoulder.

“Hardly.” Stiles gritted out, shoving his shaking hands in the pockets of the thick winter jacket he’d borrowed, correction, _stolen_.

“He’s not bad looking.” Malia commented in a not at all quiet voice.

When Stiles’ head snapped around to stare at her in horror, he recognised the look printed on her face. He’d seen it enough over the years, though rarely aimed at him. – Until Derek.

“You think so?” Kira asked quietly, glancing over her shoulder, then to Malia, before dropping her gaze back to the snow.

That was a look Stiles knew too. “He ain’t all that. You wait till you see Derek.” He grinned, elbowing Kira and shooting her a wink. “Besides. I don’t trust him.”

Both girls stared at him, equally intrigued, “Why?” they asked in unison.

Stiles exhaled, pressing his lips together. They wouldn’t understand, just as Scott never did.

“Yeah, Stiles, why?” He heard Theo call from behind.

Twisting around, Stiles scowled at the guy, narrowing his eyes. “Because trustworthy people don’t eavesdrop on other people’s private conversations.” He snapped, “Among other things.” He muttered, sending the girls an apologetic looked before marching off ahead of them, needing to put as much distance between him and the jerk as he could.

 

__(*_*)__

 

“Can you smell that?” Liam asked as the sky began to bleed a pale violet, dawn drawing in on them. His nose wrinkled at the strong scent of gasoline on the wind.

They all drew to a halt, looking in the direction of a fading orange glow through the trees. “We’ll go around.” Alec said, moving to head off to their right.

Frowning, Stiles eyes searched the tree line, “Don’t you think we should investigate?”

Alec shot him a disbelieving look. “What?”

“It could be something serious?”

“It could be Manticore.” Liam said, tone fearful, “Maybe their trying to smoke us out.”

Looking at the younger teen, Stiles shook his head reassuringly, “It’s too small and faint. They’d would have set fire to the whole forest if that were their plan.” He said, waving at the darkness that surrounded them.

“Manticore or not, we keep moving.” Alec said firmly, jerking his head in the direction he was determined to go.

Stiles looked pleadingly to the others, even letting his gaze settle on Theo for half a second, but no-one seemed willing to indulge his curious nature and risk it being a trap. Stiles shoulders slumped in defeat until Joshua spoke.

The man stood straight, his back rigid, head tilted up at the sky in an all too familiar way, and Stiles heart skipped with a mix of caution and hope. “Joshua?” Stiles asked, moving towards the werewolf, “What you got for me, big guy?”

Joshua looked down at him with a baffled stare, then shot a look to Alec, “Blood.”

“Blood?” Kira gasped, looking in the direction of the fire.

Nodding, Joshua elaborated, “I can’t hear voices,” He stated to a very displeased Alec, “just blood, fire and gasoline.”

“Come on, Alec.” Stiles pleaded again, practically bounding on the spot, “Aren’t you at least curious?”

Alex shook his head, tightening his fingers around his weapon, “Not in the least.”

“Fine. You guys go on,” Stiles grumbled, moving over to hand Case to Kira, who’d only given him up ten minutes ago, “I’ll catch you up.” He told them, heading for the fading light.

He was stopped in his tracks by Theo, “Don’t be stupid.” He snapped.

“Excuse me?” Stiles straightened defensively, fingers curling at his side.

“Even if it is…something, what can you do?” Theo reasoned, sounding concerned, though Stiles doubted it was genuine.

“Someone could be hurt!” Stiles argued forcibly, stepping past the man, or at least he attempted to, only Theo quickly blocked him again, getting up in his face.

“He just said,” Theo gritted out, jerking a hand in the direction of Joshua, “he can’t hear anything.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the guy’s tone when referring to the werewolf, gritting his teeth, “ _Joshua_ said he couldn’t hear voices, doesn’t mean there isn’t someone out there. They could be unconscious, or dying.”

“So?” Theo shrugged, dismissively.

“So?” Stiles gaped, eyes wide, “ _So_ , I’m going to help, because my dad raised me to help people when they’re in trouble.” With that, Stiles shouldered angrily past the other teenager.

Theo’s hand snapped out, gripping Stiles arm and shoving him back into the nearest tree. “I won’t let you endanger the rest of us!” he growled.

“You won’t _let_ me?” Stiles seethed, driving his fist into Theo’s stomach, before delivering a left hook to the jerks jaw, sending the man stumbling back.

Before Stiles could walk away however, the guy was on him again, yanking him violently back by his jacket. Stiles landed hard on his ass in the snow, while Theo moved to stand over him.

Breathing heavily, Stiles feigned defeat, letting his body relax as if surrendering. A smirk curled the corner of Theo’s lips and he sighed, “Sorry man, but…”

He didn’t get to finish his insincere apology however, because Stiles moved quickly, delivering a firm kick to the guy’s stomach, before driving another into his knee, then he swept Theo’s legs out from under him. The second the asshole landed on his back, Stiles drove the heel of his booted foot into the guys jaw. Hard enough they all heard the bone crack.

Blood seeped into the snow as Stiles scrabbled to his feet, face flushed. “Anyone else want to stop me?” he demanded, straightening his clothes. When no-one else said anything, he stomped off into the woods.

His body was humming with adrenaline, heart pounding almost out of his chest, but at least he wasn’t feeling the cold anymore. As he walked, he determinedly refused to acknowledge that Alec and Theo were possibly right, and this was a very stupid idea. Because for Stiles, self-preservation, more often than not, gave way to blind curiosity. And when it did, it generally tended to end with him in a whole heap of crap, and fighting for his life.

But on rare occasions, it led to something incredible. – Like a sexy werewolf boyfriend.

 

__(*_*)__

 

Stiles gasped when he stepped out of the trees to find the front half of a plane. It wasn’t that huge, but was certainly large enough to be torn in two as it crashed. Tears pooled in his eyes as he glanced around, stomach twisting at the sight of scattered bodies, and flaming pieces. The strong scent of burnt flesh had him quickly turning away from the scene to empty what little he’d eaten all over the ground, his trembling hand pressed to his stomach.

He was still doubled over when he heard Malia gasp, “Oh my god.”

Looking up, he watched the same horror spread over the others faces. Kira whimpered brokenly, turning her body to shield Case from the scene. Spitting the acid taste out of his mouth, Stiles straightened and took a deep breath, a tear rolling down his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven’t not seen past season 4, I have no idea what kind of person Theo is, I’m working solely off small scenes I’ve seen on Tumblr, so if he’s completely out of character, I’m sorry. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, sorry it’s so short. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.


	5. Fallout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s become impossible to get the remaining Dark Angel episode titles to fit the chapters I’m writing, so I’m just going to scrap that plan. Dammit.

Derek stood by the door of the Sheriff’s station, hands buried deep in his pockets, while the deputies rolled off question after question at the Sheriff. John clearly didn’t have a clue what was going on, any more than they did, but he was calm and reassuring.

“It’s just a power outage.” He told them, but Derek heard the uptick of his heart. He didn’t believe that.

“But what about the cars?” One of the deputies asked, the stale sent of fear and anxiety rolling off him as he stood with his arms waving.

John looked at the younger man and took a deep breath, pressing his lips into a thin line for a brief second. “Look, right now, our number one priority is the public. – I want you all to get out there, door to door, and reassure everyone that we have things under control.”

“Even when we don’t.” The same deputy muttered.

If the Sheriff hears it, he doesn’t comment, instead he waves his hands at them all, and reluctantly they all scurry away. Parrish shoots Derek a suspicious look as he passes by and Derek returns it with just as much heat. As everyone vanishes out of the door, John turns to him, waving him forward. “Is this…” he wriggles his fingers about as if conjuring the words he can’t say.

“Supernatural?” Derek says with a sigh, and shrugs. “I have no idea.”

John nods towards his office and they step inside. Closing the door, John turns on him, hand still resting on the handle. “I can’t get hold of anyone. The phone lines are down, internet too. It’s like we’ve been cut off.” Exhaling a worried breath, he drags his fingers through his hair and marched to his desk. “Like I don’t have enough on my plate right now.” He grumbles.

“Perhaps it is just a power outage?”

Lowering himself heavily into his chair, John closed his eyes and shook his head. “You don’t believe that any more than I do.” After a few silent seconds, the older man opened his eyes, fixing them on Derek. “If it were, the emergency lines would still work, they run of a separate generator like the lights, but there’s nothing. Even the cells are down.” He added, holding up his cell phone in demonstration. “This isn’t a power outage.”

Shoulders slumping, Derek dropped down into the chair, “Then what is it?”

“You tell me. Could this have anything to do with the Nemeton?”

Derek considered it and shrugged, “We don’t know enough about any of it.” he sighed regretfully. “We don’t even know if this,” he waved a hand, “is just affecting Beacon Hills?”

John nodded, “You’re right.” He hummed, leaning further forward on his desk. “As soon as they’ve finished the door to door, I’ll send them out to the neighbouring towns.”

“Without cars?”

John gritted his teeth and a wave of frustration hit Derek. “Dammit.”

“I’ll go.” Derek offered.

“What?” John’s head snapped up.

“I can go on foot.” Derek clarified. “I’ll send Peter and the twins out too. As long,” he paused, inhaling deeply, “Would you mind if Isaac and Cora came here. I’d feel safer with them here.”

John looked at him, already nodding. “Of course.”

Derek shot to his feet, already heading for the door.

“Derek?” John called, “Be careful.”

“Yes, Sir.”

 

__(*_*)__

 

“Why us?” Aiden grumbled from the couch, Cora curled into his side.

“Because I said so.” Derek replied harshly, “Unless you want to leave?” He hadn’t been happy about allowing the twins to stay, but he’d done so for Cora, but only if they accepted him as their Alpha, and everything that implied. – Which meant, if he told them to do something, they did it.

Aiden stiffened, his heckles clearly raised, but then Cora’s hand landed on his thigh and he melted. “Fine. – What exactly are we searching for?”

“You’re not searching for anything, just see if this blackout reaches the neighbouring town.”

Peter exhaled a dramatic sigh, “I don’t see why we can’t just wait it out. Give it at least twenty-four hours.”

Turning, Derek meet his uncle’s dismissive gaze with determination and a flash of red, “Because, we need to know if this is an attack on Beacon Hills and the Nemeton. Preferably before we get caught with our pants down!”

The mention of the Nemeton was all Peter clearly needed, he was on his feet and already marching towards the door. “Fine. – I’m going to check on Lydia and Jackson first.”

“What about me?” Isaac asked, getting to his feet.

“You and Cora are going to the sheriff’s office.”

“What!” Isaac whined, features pinched, “Why?”

“Because I want someone watching him.” Derek lied flawlessly. A skill he’d picked up during his relationship with Kate. “Just in case this is an attack.”

“What about the others? Erica, Boyd?”

“I’ll doubt they’ll want to leave their families right now, and I wouldn’t ask them too.”

“What about the tunnels?” Ethan asked quietly. “If this is an attack, should we really leave them unguarded?”

Derek paused, considering. He looked back over his shoulder, trying to figure out how to protect them and….

“No-one knows about the tunnels,” Cora piped in.

“Jennifer knew.” Aiden gritted out.

“Because she had me.” Cora reminded them flatly, looking between the two men. “Besides, if it’s about the Nemeton, they’ll come for us first.” she stated in a surprisingly calm tone.

“She’s right.” Derek said, staring down at his sister.

“Which is why we should stay.” Aiden said desperately, looking at Cora.

Dragging his fingers through is hair, Derek gritted his teeth tightly before he spoke. “Cora will be safe enough with Isaac and the Sheriff.”

“A human.” Aiden scoffed, disbelieving.

Derek wasn’t going to be drawn into an argument, instead he flashed his eyes at the beta, and nodded to the door. “Get going. The sooner you get out there, the sooner you’ll be back.”

With a low growl, Aiden got to his feet, his hand clinging to Cora’s until the last second. Ethan quickly stood, and together the twins hurried to the door, leaving Derek alone with the remaining betas’. “Okay, let’s go. – I – I need to check in on Scott.”

 

__(*_*)__

 

“I thought it was just a blackout?” Scott frowned, eyes flickering between the three werewolves.

“It probably is, we’re just being cautious.” Derek said tersely.

“Where’s Melissa?” Isaac asked, his voice a little worried.

“Work.” Scott replied, brows slowly creeping into a worried frown. “Why?”

“It’s probably nothing, but….” Derek growled, “it might be best if you didn’t stay here alone.” He added tightly, looking back to the teenager. “Either go to the hospital or the Sheriff’s office.” With that, he turned and marched down the stairs. He’d done his duty, he’d given Scott options. He’d done exactly what Stiles would expect him to do.

 

__(*_*)__

 

Dawn was on the horizon when he reached the outskirts of Beacon Hills. He’s wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or more freaked out that the nearest town, Beacon Valley, was also plunged into darkness. It did mean that they weren’t under attack, or at least he hoped that was what it meant, but the fact that the county, and possibly the state was currently in a blackout set his nerves on edge.

With Beacon Hills in sight, Derek slowed his pace a little and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He strolled through the woods, allowing the early morning air to fill his lungs, clean and cool.

The scent of winter drifted on the air, conjuring memories of a family gathered around a large table, sharing his grandmother’s goose, laughing and exchanging gifts.

The holidays had pretty much been abandoned by him and Laura for those first few years after the fire, neither one feeling particually thankful, not even for their own lives. Over the last two though, Laura was slowly moving forward, accepting invitations for thanksgiving dinners, and Christmas parties. Derek on the other hand, stubbornly allowed himself to wallow.

He hadn’t realised however, that the pain and misery of the seasons had diminished during that time, not until he heard everyone discussing their thanksgiving plans, and he felt his heart twist painfully in his chest for the first time in a long while. That had been the first night he’d risked his life to block out the pain. However, instead of it allowing him to fall into a dark abyss as he’d expected, it had awakened a part of his mind where wishes lay.

He’d laid on the couch, eyes closed while his mind conjured up the fantasy of a happy thanksgiving. His pack gathered around him, all smiling and laughing at shared jokes. The house once more filled with the sounds and smells of pack. He visualised himself staring down a food covered long table, straight into the eyes of Stiles.

Derek’s stomach twisted and he snapped his eyes open. He wasn’t sure if he was still taking the drug in order to banish the memory of that dream, or if he desperately wished to return to it.

A sound, off in the half-darkness, caught Derek’s attention, chasing all his melancholy thoughts away. Yanking his hands free of his jacket, he stiffened, lifting his nose to the air and drawing in another deep breath, this time taking a more categorized note of each scent molecule that drifted on the breeze. Beneath the natural winter scent of sleet and ice, along with nature itself, trees and animals going about their normal morning routines. There was still the tangy metallic taste that had accompanied the blackout from hours earlier. Under neither all of that though, Derek didn’t fail to detect the familiar unnatural scent that made up Stiles. The same scent he’d gotten from the Sheriff’s deputy.

Derek took off in the direction of the scent.

The months with Stiles, learning how he fought, gave Derek a slight advantage with he turned a corner and was tackled to the dirt. It took a few seconds for his vision to focus and his mind to register that he was begging straddled by a young dark skinned woman, her fist raised in preparation of attack. Derek reacted quickly, tossing her body aside, before diving for her. Her fighting style was far more regimented than Stiles’ had been, and his gut twisted with revelation.

Getting the upper hand took some work, but eventually he was able to pin the woman face down in the dirt, his whole body weight holding her against the earth. He pressed his knees into her shoulder blades as his hand tugged violently at her hair and shirt, baring the back of her neck.

Derek inhaled sharply at the sight of a barcode, its lines a range of thin and thick black standing out against her mocha skin. He couldn’t control the fury that surged to the surface, his eyes bleeding red and his canines burst forth.

Leaning forward, Derek let his hot breath play across the transgenic’s cheek as he demanded, “Where is he?” he growled, voice filled with enough danger her flesh burst out in goosebumps.

“I… - Who?”

“You know who?” Derek growled, “Stiles!” He roared the name into her face, and the woman’s eyes closed tightly and he felt a wave of pleasure when he felt her begin to tremble beneath him. “Where. Is. He?”

She began to shake her head, voice trembling as he replied, “I don’t know.”

“You’re lying. I know you took him.”

“I don’t know where he is!” she said and as much as Derek hated it, her heartbeat was steady. – _Then again, Stiles knows how to lie to him._

The sound of gunfire had Derek’s head snapping around his eyes narrowing. He inhaled deeply when out of the woods stepped a familiar blond man. Weapon trained on Derek. “Step away from her.” Parrish ordered firmly.

“No.” Derek stated resolutely, lip curling over his human teeth.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Hale.”

Letting his eyes drift down to the handgun, Derek inhaled, grinning when all he smelt was lead and gunpowder. “Go ahead.” Getting to his feet, he yanked the woman up by the back of her neck, his claws biting into flesh.

“Jordan.” The woman pleaded, fear evident in her voice. “ _Please_.”

Parrish flinched and Derek let out a low growl and shifted his features back to his werewolf form in warning. The scent of anger and fear rolled off the young deputy, mixing with the man’s unnatural scent and Parrish straightened, seemingly unaffected by Derek’s appearance. “Just let her go.” He repeated again wearily.

Derek shook his head, “No. I’m taking her with me.”

“She doesn’t know anything.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Derek snapped.

“It’s the truth. All Braeden did was tell them where he was. She doesn’t know where he was taken.”

Derek’s eyes flashed red and he tightened his fingers. “Oh well, that’s okay then.” He growled sarcastically.

“She saved your beta, Isaac right? Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Looking from the woman to Parrish, Derek narrowed his gaze suspiciously, “Who are you? How do you know…?”

Parrish exhaled a long sigh and lowered his weapon, “You know who I am. – Or at least what I am. Stiles told you everything, didn’t he? About his mom, about himself.” Parrish’s brows drew together, “How’d you figure out about me?” he frowned.

“Like you said, Stiles told me everything.”

“Except Stiles doesn’t know about me. As far as he’s concerned, he’s alone in town.”

Derek lifted his chin, pressing his lips into a thin line, refusing to explain how he’d smelt what the deputy was. “I take it then, that the Sheriff doesn’t know what you are, either?”

Parrish lowered his eyes guiltily, causing Derek to scoff humourlessly, “Yeah,” he took a step back, pulling the woman, Braeden with him.

“Derek,” Pleaded Parrish. “I swear, she doesn’t….”

“I don’t care!” Derek roared, “She’s responsible for Stiles’ being missing. I’m taking her to the Sheriff. He deceives answers.” He spat, glaring furiously at the young man who’d wormed his way into the Sheriff’s trust.

Derek heard the hurried footsteps behind him as Parrish raced to catch up with them. He saw Braeden glance over her shoulder desperately, as he continued to drag her along by her arm. She fought against his hold but all Derek did was tighten his grip. The scent of blood filling the air as his claws began to piece her struggling flesh.

“Derek!” Parrish yelled after him, the voice followed by a gun shot, the bullet flying past his head. “There’s nothing she can tell him.” He shouted, “I just told you, all she did was tell them where he was. She wasn’t even there! We had her!”

That had Derek drawing to a halt and spinning to fix the man with a hard glare. “”We?” he growled.

Parrish stopped in his tracks, shoulders slumping. “Yes. Stiles isn’t the only one missing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me through this fic, especially considering how irregular the updates have been. I’m also incredibly appreciative of the feedback you’ve been leaving, I love to hear from you.


	6. Past Prologue

Derek cautiously stepped into the Sheriff’s station, Braeden’s arm secure beneath his fingers and Parrish dragging his feet behind him. The man had tried desperately to convince him not to bring this to the Sheriff, but Derek couldn’t do that. The man deserved to know everything. He’d been kept in the dark for too long already.

“One last chance, Derek. Please, don’t do this.” Parrish whispered. Derek fixed the man with a blank stare, then pushed through the door that separated the public area from the main offices.

The station was still bathed in ominous green light, despite the fact that the sun was up and breaking in through the gaps in the shade. The place was almost empty, but for Isaac and Cora, who were sat at one of the desks playing cards. The pair looked up when he entered, Isaac’s eyes widening as he took in the woman at Derek’s side.

“Oh my god.” He gasped, “It’s her.”

Cora frowned, “Who?”

“The woman who saved me from…”

Before the teenager could finish what he was saying, the Sheriff’s office door open, the man stepping out, the heady scent of tiredness thickening the air. He looked from Derek to the woman, then past him to where Parrish was stood a few feet behind. As his eyes drifted back to Braeden, he narrowed them, staring intensely.

With a glance over to the noticeboard where a police sketch was pinned, then back to her, he went rigid as realisation set in. The air in the room seemed to freeze and the Sheriff sucked in a deep breath. He stepped forward, hand going to his hip. “Where is he?” John demanded, tone cold and threatening. “Where’s my son?”

Braeden pressed her lips into a thin line and defiantly lifted her chin, and Derek exhaled, “Sheriff.”

John’s eyes didn’t move from the woman. “Where. Is. My. Son?”

“She doesn’t know.” Parrish grunted from behind Derek.

John’s hard eyes flew past her to settle on the young deputy, who was stood there, back straight, chin raised. “So she says.” He scoffed, disbelievingly.

“Sheriff, we need to talk.” Derek said, cutting through the sudden tension.

The older man looked between them all, then nodded. “Okay. Parrish, take her through to…”

Derek’s fingers tightened on Braeden’s arm, causing her to hiss in discomfort as his claws bit through the fabric of her thin shirt. “No. All of us.” He stated firmly.

The Sheriff looked confused, “What? Why?”

Derek glanced back over his shoulder to Parrish, then turned back to the older man. “Because he’s one of them.”

A heavy silence settled over the room as the Sheriff stiffened at the revelation, his eyes burning into the young deputy he’d put his trust in over the past few months. “W-what?”

“Please, Sheriff, it’s not what you….”

John’s eyes blew wide open and he reached for his weapon once more. Thankfully, Derek was able to react quickly, while still keeping a hold on Braeden. He wrapped his fingers around the barrel of the gun tightly, placing himself between the Sheriff and Parrish, and forced it down. “Stop.” He ordered harshly, his alpha voice coming through, despite knowing it meant nothing to the older man. “If we want to know how to find Stiles, we need to hear him out.”

Derek saw the anger and betrayal battle against the logical of knowing they’d need both of them if they expected to find Stiles. Thankfully common sense won out and the Sheriff returned his weapon to his hip, “Interview room.” He ordered, jerking his chin to his left.

With a small nod, Derek dragged Braeden toward the small corridor that housed the interview room, pausing only long enough to tell Isaac and Cora to remain where they were.

Behind him, the Sheriff glared as Parrish slinked off behind the werewolf.

They wandered down the small corridor that led to the interview rooms, Braeden still firmly in Derek’s hold, while the Sheriff walked stiffly behind Parrish, his hand constantly resting on the weapon.

The emergency lighting gave the room an ominous atmosphere, like something out of a European slasher movie. Yanking out one of the chairs, Derek shoved the young woman down into it, then stepped back to stand guard at the door, just in case the pair attempted to make a break for it.

Parrish lowered himself down next to Braedon, giving her a reassuring look and a squeeze of her shoulder, before focusing on the Sheriff, who’d taken the seat opposite them. No-one spoke for a few tense minutes, causing the already uncomfortable situation increasingly unnerving.

“So?” John gritted out eventually, “What do you have to say for yourself.”

Parrish exhaled, leaning forward on his elbows. “First, I swear, I had nothing to do with Stiles being taken.”

John glared at him disbelievingly, “Really? So it’s just a coincidence that you turned up only a few months before my son is kidnapped. – And that you’ve apparently been harbouring a person of interest?”

“I know it looks bad,” Parrish remarked flatly. “I came to Beacon Hills to help protect him.”

“Great job you did.” Derek scoffed coldly.

“I know.” Parrish slumped down in his seat, “I let him down, I let _Claudia_ down.” The Sheriff stiffened at the mention of his wife, but didn’t say anything. “I thought he’d be safe once we….” He trailed off looking at the woman beside him.

“Where is he?” The Sheriff demanded angrily.

“I have no idea.” The young deputy shook his head, “Tell them.” He said, elbowing Braeden. The young woman pressed her lips into a thin line, back stiff as she stared at the wall past the Sheriff. “Braeden, _tell_ him.”

She shot Parrish a hard glare, before looking over to where Derek had taken a threatening step forward. Exhaling a furious breath, she spoke. “I was only meant to locate him and the others.” She stated coldly.

“Then what?”

“Then report back to my handler so they could send a recovery team.” Braeden replied after a few resentful moments.

“Where have they taken him?” John demanded desperately.

The woman shrugged, “I don’t know. A new facility was set up for their detainment.”

“Their?”

“Stiles isn’t he only one missing.” Parrish informed him, leaning forward with a sigh. “How much do you know about your son? – About us?”

“Only what Claudia told me.” The Sheriff replied harshly. “That you’re a government experiment. That she escaped when she discovered she was pregnant.”

Parrish shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unable to fully meet the older man’s eyes as he spoke, “That’s not… - That’s not exactly…There’s a lot more...” Parrish muttered, “The government funded the research, but we weren’t created for them. – We’re an army, to fight against the followers of Stheno.”

Derek stiffened at the name, his arms dropped down to his side. “What?”

“Stheno is a…”

“I know who she is.” Derek snapped.

Looking up at Derek briefly, before turning back to the Sheriff, the young deputy continued. “Our father was born into the cult, but he was considered cursed.”

“Father? Cursed?” The Sheriff’s already intense frown deepened.

“The cult have spent generations breeding with werewolves,” he glanced briefly over at Derek, “trying to make themselves stronger, faster. Better built to serve the Goddess when she rises. – However, some are born…cursed. Trapped in a permanent limbo between being human and werewolf. Father was one of those.” Parrish dragged his fingers through is hair, before fussing with the cuffs of his shirt, rolling up the sleeves.

“If you’re here to fight against Stheno, then why take Stiles?” Derek asked, repositioning himself closer to the table.

“We didn’t take Stiles, Manticore did, or at least those that took it over. – 17 years ago, Father discovered that the government had been infiltrated by The Chosen, the followers of Stheno, and that they were planning to take over the project and use our Father’s research. That was when Father decided to release us out into the world, with orders to remain under the radar.”

“Not all of us.” Braedon spat angrily, glaring at Parrish, who exhaled a sad sigh. “Some of us were handed over to them.”

“What?”

“If Father had let us all go, they would have hunted us down.” Parrish countered, tone strained. “We needed a second front.”

“Yeah, and screw the rest of us.” Braeden growled furiously. “Do you know what they did to the rest of us?” she asked The Sheriff, “We were used as lab rats, tested and tortured to see how we worked. Then, those of us that survived were ‘ _reprogrammed’_ and rented out to the highest bidder. While you got to live normal lives.”

“Normal?” Parrish scoffed, “Constantly looking over our shoulder. Always fearing discovery. – Lying to those we loved.”

“At least you got to fall in love. At least you got to have families.” She glared at the Sheriff accusingly.

The room fell back into a tense uncomfortable silence for a few minutes, Braeden sat slumped in her chair, arms folded while she glared at the walls. Parrish let his face fall into his hands, leaning heavily on the table as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

“So Claudia lied to me.” The Sheriff eventually said, voicing his inner turmoil.

Looking up from his palms, Parrish sighed, “I’m sorry.” He said quietly, then straightened, crossing his arms in front of him. “The fact is Sheriff, she should never have met you. She was meant to go to ground, like the rest of us. Especially considering she was carrying Stiles.”

“What does that mean?” John frowned, his heart beginning to race.

“Stiles, and the others, they’re not like us. They’re not just another generation of fighters.” He sighed, “Would you mind if I stretch my legs?” he asked carefully. The Sheriff hesitated, shooting Derek a considering look, then nodded.

Pushing to his feet, Parrish began to pace the small interview room. “How much do you know about Stheno?”

“Enough to know we don’t want her freed.” The Sheriff grumbled.

“Understatement. Do you know what’s keeping her imprisoned?”

“Five seals.” Derek answered.

“Each held in place by the branches of five family lines.” Parrish nodded, “When those family lines die out, the seals break and she’ll be set free. Well, Father feared the Cult was getting close to discovering who those family lines where, and that they’d take actions to wipe them out.”

A shiver ran down Derek’s spine as he remembered what Lydia had told him. How one of the lines was already gone. – Except it wasn’t. The seal was still holding and she couldn’t figure out how.

“So he put in motion a failsafe,” Parrish continued, “Five secret, untraceable children, each one connected to a single branch. Stiles is one of those children.”

“What!” They all gasped in unison, including Braedon, who shot up straight in her seat looking shocked and bewildered.

“I – had no idea.”

“No reason you would. We were just kids. Only Claudia and the others knew.”

“Then how do _you_ know?” The Sheriff demanded, eyes mistrusting as he watched the man closely.

“I was told when I was sent to Beacon Hills.”

“Sent? By who?” John asked, brows pinched.

“My Father.”

“What?” Braeden gasped, shaking her head, “That’s not possible. He’s dead.”

“No.” was all Parrish said in reply, turning to lean back against the grey wall, hands slipping into the pockets of his uniform pants.

“Where is he?” Derek demanded.

Meeting Derek’s hard gaze, Parrish shook his head. “Somewhere safe.”

“Wait,” John snapped, “So, you’re telling me Claudia didn’t get pregnant because of an affair with one of the guards at Manticore?”

Looking at him sympathetically, Parrish shook his head. “No. She was impregnated by Father using sperm samples he collected from a member of each family.”

With his heart pounding in his ear, Derek couldn’t stop himself from asking, a sickening feeling in his gut. “W-which family?”

“Don’t worry,” the deputy smiled reassuringly, meeting Derek’s fearful eyes. “He’s not related to _you_?” his gaze drifted back to the Sheriff. “She tracked you down, despite being ordered not to.”

John’s stared blankly at the younger man, his heart beating loudly in his ears. The memories of a white doctor’s office flooding his mind.

_“Is this really necessary?”_

_“It’s just a precaution. We need to be sure you don’t have anything.”_

_“Yeah, I get that,” John muttered awkwardly, dropping his eyes to the small plastic cup on the doctor’s desk, his cheeks burning. “Just a little odd, is all. I mean I get taking blood, but…”_

_The older man met his gaze, eyes searching John’s flushed young face. “I understand your embarrassment Mr Stilinski, but if you’re going to join the police department, we need to be sure you don’t have anything that could harm the general public.”_

Shooting out of his seat, John marched away from the table, dragging his fingers through his hair as his heart beat out a frantic rhythm in his chest. He stopped in front of the two way mirror and stared at his own reflection. Eyes flickering over his features while conjuring Stiles to mind. There had been times when he’d thought, imagined similarities between him and his son, but he’d brushed them off so many times as wishful thinking. He’d dismissed it when Stiles mirrored his own behaviour or mannerisms, told himself it was just a kid mimicking his parent. When people had commented how like him Stiles was, John had gritted his teeth and smiled, thanking them while inside his heart broke and his gut twisted with guilt and shame for the bitterness that took root inside him. - And all the while…. - “Why didn’t she tell me?” he demanded angrily.

He saw Parrish shake his head behind him, “Because we had orders.”

“You just said she’d already broken them by tracking me down.” John snapped, turning to glare at the young deputy.

Parrish met his gaze sadly, “I wish I had answers for you, but….” He took a deep breath through his nose, “…I hadn’t seen her since Father packed us off in the dead of night. I can’t tell you why she didn’t tell you the truth about herself, about us.”

John swallowed thickly, turning away once more. His heart beating painfully against his ribs and stealing his breath.

“Sheriff?” Derek asked carefully.

Without a word, John turned, “You said there are others? How many?”

Parrish pressed his lips into a thin line, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Sheriff but…”

“Unless you want me to lock you up as an accomplice to a kidnapping, you’ll tell me!”

Meeting his angry, threatening gaze, Parrish pushed himself off the wall, straightening to his full height. The two men stared at one another in challenge, Parrish making it clear he wasn’t going to be saying anything more.

“Fine.” The Sheriff spat furiously. “Derek, would you mind taking them down to the cells.” He reached for the keys on his belt.

Derek frowned for a second, before taking the offered keys and grabbing Braeden’s arm, forcing her out of the chair. He met the deputy’s eyes, and exhaled a relieved sigh when the young man moved to follow him without argument. Pausing only breifly to look back regretfully at the older man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes. The Sheriff really is Stiles dad. I know it’s a bit of a cop-out, and honestly I seriously considered making other options, but it just didn’t feel right for anyone else to be Stiles father.


	7. Halt and Catch Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I realised my timing was off. I insinuated in chapter 5 that it was almost Thanksgiving when the blackout happened, that was a mistake. I went back to my notes and realised that it would have actually been after New Year. Sorry for the confusion. I have gone back to alter the line. For the rest of you, keep in mind that the break out happened on January 3rd 2013.

Stiles stared at the small pathetic fire, visions of the crashed plane taunting him in its orange glow. It had been almost four days since they'd left it behind, too scared of being found when the authorities came looking. - Which they were bound to do, right? Plane crashes aren't ignored.

They were days from the boarder and quickly running out of food, which they all knew meant having to venture into town. They'd decided to wait until they left Wyoming before attempting to interact with the public, hoping that Manticore hadn't searched beyond state lines.

Stiles knew it was wishful thinking, and he suspected so did everyone else. But what other choice did they have? It was winter, there wasn't much to hunt.

Lifting his trembling cold hands to his mouth, Stiles blow on them before rubbing them together. God, how he desperately wanted the warmth and security of his home, but they needed to be sure they weren’t being tracked, according to Alec. So they were zig-zagging across the state. At this rate, it would take them weeks, maybe even months to reach Beacon Hills.

  1. _493_. Stiles told himself for the hundredth time since dawn.



He’d missed Christmas, and New Year, his first away from his father and Scott. His chest tightened at the thought of his father spending the season alone. - Sure, they rarely got to spend the day together, his father taking the shift more and more often over the last few years. - Stiles understood why, kinda. Though it didn’t stop it hurting that his father would rather spend the day with criminals and drunks, than with him. – But then, why would he want to? Stiles was nothing but a reminder than his wife was gone. And it wasn’t as if Stiles was even his real son, right?

So instead he’d hang out at Scott’s place, either keeping his best friend company if Melissa was also forced to work that day, or to be fussed over by the pair of them.

This year would have been different though, wouldn't it? Stiles realised sadly. He and Scott weren't friends anymore, so he doubted he'd be welcome at the McCalls dinner table. Would he have spent it with Derek and Isaac instead? He pondered the idea and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Thrusting his hands out in front of him, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to bask in the fantasy for a few minutes. Him and Derek, curled up on the couch in the big house they'd built together. _Mostly_. Watching _It's A Wonderful Life_ , or whatever old movie Derek chose. Isaac curled up like a little puppy in front of the fireplace, as the scent of roast turkey and potatoes slowly ebbed away after dinner.

He could see the twinkle of fairy lights on the tree in the corner, and the multi coloured glow sneaking through a gap in the curtain from the lights hanging from the porch.

Nothing supernatural would ruin the peace of the day. His father would arrive after his shift and Stiles would drag himself out from under Derek’s heavy relaxed arm to go and fix his dad a plate, while the two men he love more than anything in the world talked about nothing in particular.

“Thinking of lover boy again?”

Stiles eyes snapped open and he glared angrily up at Theo for not only daring to talk to him, but for pulling him away from his fantasy.

Straightening, Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Wasn’t one ass kicking enough?”

Theo smirked, but Stiles could see the anger at being reminded how easily Stiles had laid him out. “If you’re interested in getting your hands on me again, all you got to do is ask.”

Stiles rolled his eyes warily. “Not if you were the last jerk on earth.” He dismissed with a scathing snort. “Besides, I progressed to _men_ six months ago.”

“Thought your boyfriend was a werewolf?” Theo quizzed with a bitter smirk.

It took all of Stiles self-control not to leap up and knock the jackass out cold. Instead, he rolled his eyes and muttered, “Fuck off. You’re boring me.” He then closed his eyes again and waited for the sound of footsteps in the snow.

If they got back to Beacon Hills without Stiles killing the douche-bag, it would frankly be a god-damn miracle. _493 days. 493 days. 493 days._ He repeated over and over in his head, reaching out for his anchor to calm him.

His eyes flew open a second time at the sound of something heavy hitting the tightly packed snow, and didn’t even attempt to hold on the amused snort at the sight of Theo laid out once again, nose bleeding.

Kira marched toward Stiles, flexing her fingers. She smiled softly down and silently asked if she could join him. With a nod from him, she lowered herself down onto the fallen log.

“Nice.” Stiles praised, grinning.

“The guy’s an asshole.” She spat, gaze flickering across the fire to where Joshua sat, his head down, watching the flames.

Meanwhile Stiles watched over her head as Theo clambered to his feet and staggered over to Malia, the former beginning to fuss. With a tired roll of his eyes, he returned his attention to Kira, bumping her with his shoulder. “You’re awesome.” He told her with a wide bright grin, “My friends are going to love you.”

Kira blushed sheepishly, tucking her chin against her chest and thrusting her shaking hands in between her thighs to help warm them. “What are they like?” she asked shyly, eyes fixed on the snow beneath her feet, shivering.

Stiles shifted closer in an attempt to share his body heat. God only knew what the temperature was, but if they were feeling it, they had to be in the minuses, right? “What, my friends?” at Kira’s nod, he shrugged. “I don’t know,” he hummed thoughtfully. His mind instantly went to Scott, which wasn’t a good place. Remembering the last time they’d seen each other, the yelling and accusations. It hurt.

And were he and the others even friends? Sure, he’d grown pretty close with Lydia over the past year, but he still thought Jackson was a dick, and Isaac, well, there was still that tiny part of him that was jealous of him, and his friendship with Scott.

“They’re just…” he shrugged, chewing on the inside of his lip for a second, as he fought to find the right word. “Normal, I guess.”

Kira looked at him with a raised disbelieving look, “Are they all werewolves?”

“Not _all_ of them.” Stiles defended. He met Kira’s curious gaze and just knew she’d keep badgering him for more details. It was his own fault really, he should never have brought them up. “But most of them. I mean Ly….” He trailed off as he realized what he was about to say. That Lydia was human too, but – she wasn’t. She was a Banshee. He’d have Allison on Team Human, but… well, she wasn’t around anymore. – And really, was _he_ even on Team Human?

“Stiles?” Kira frowned, nudging him gently with her elbow.

“We’re all special in our own way.” He said with a smile.

Kira stared at him for a few minutes, before asking, “And they know about…. _You_?”

Stiles nodded, “Most of them.”

Silence settled between them, and they listened to Malia and Liam fuss over Theo. Joshua’s gentle voice as he told Case a story while brushing his fingers through the little boy’s hair. The quiet crackle of the fire seemed louder somehow, and everyone tensed as Alec stepped out of the trees with more fire wood.

“I didn’t have any friends.” Kira muttered quietly once Alec had dropped a fresh log into the flames and settled down beside Joshua.

Stiles turned to stare at her. “What? Surely you had…?”

Kira shook her head. “My mom wouldn’t allow it. Said it was too dangerous.”

Something twisted in his gut, the memory of his dad inviting the kids from his fourth grade class to his birthday party, encouraging him to blend in. – All the while teaching him to trust no one. If she’d lived past his eighth birthday, would she had stopped him from hanging with Scott? Would she have kept him away from the pack? From Derek? Lord knew, it had taken him a long time before he could trust the man without hearing his mom’s whispered words of caution. “That sucks.” Stiles sighed, the corner of his lip curling in a sad smile. “But you’ve got me now.” He said with confidence, bumping his shoulder to hers.

Kira looked at him doubtfully, “Really?”

“Absolutely.” His smile broadened, and he lifted his arms to her shoulders, pulling her into a sideways hug.

Kira’s eyes seemed to glow brightly, the flames reflected in their depths. “Thanks Stiles.” She grinned happily.

 

___(*_*)___

 

 

_The flames illuminated the sky an eerie mix of orange, yellow and red. It reminded Stiles of hell. The cliché hell of pop culture and classical art. The hell a Sunday school teacher would warn him about, if you know, he'd gone to Sunday school._

_There was heat to, blistering his flesh. Strangely attempting to lure him in and force him away, all at the same time._

_And the smell. God, the smell. Choking him. Ripping at his throat. Causing his eyes to sting and water. His stomach rebelled. It was almost as if the odour was fingers reaching down his throat to curl around every corner of his insides and twist, until all he wanted to do was vomit, in a desperate hope he could cleanse himself of the horrific torture._

_But it wasn't the colours, or the heat that terrified Stiles, it was what lay in the center of those flames. Being consumed slowly. Melting flesh sizzling and turning black, adding to the foul scent that hung heavily around them. But no matter how blackened and blistered the bodies became, Stiles could still make out their faces. Could still see their features twisted in pain and horror, and fear. He could still see the look of betrayal on his friends faces._

_He couldn’t breathe, he realised. The heat and smell, and light, all choking him. Trying to draw him in too. His eyes flicker around the wreckage, his legs turning to water beneath him. If only they were water, then at least he could put out the flames. He could stop hell from consuming more and more of his friends._

_When his eyes landed on Derek, he couldn’t hold on anymore, and he crumpled to the ground. It's too hot for tears to form in his eyes, so on his hands and knees he crawled closer, and reached out. His long fingers burning as he touched flames, but he doesn't stop. He needs to touch, needs to be sure._

_The tips of his fingers almost reach their goal. Just a few more inches. He can make it. He won't let the heat win._

_Derek's eyes fly open, blazing as red as the flames licking across his body, as they meet Stiles._

Stiles shot up, unable to breathe. Shivering, as the heat of the flames are dispelled by the icy winter cold. Tears have turned to icicles on his lashes, which make it difficult to see. There’s light still. A similar dancing fire, but the blistering heat has gone and it's only a small corner of the darkness that's shimmers orange. In its distant light, he can see a large figure in front of him, two piercing electric blue eyes starting to move closer.

"Derek?" Stiles whispered, voice cracking. "What happened? Why are your eyes...?"

A light touch lands on his ankle and almost instantly he feels it. Air begins to fill his lungs once more. The fear and anxiety begins to seep away, bit by bit; his mind clears and the haunting images of the nightmare dissipates. Stiles lifts his hand to his eyes, rubbing at them. When he lowers it, Derek isn't there. In his place is Joshua, and with a twist of his heart, Stiles realises Derek hadn't been there at all. It had all been part of the dream. A wish unfulfilled.

The giant werewolf was crouched beside his legs. He looked up through his long hair and once again Stiles saw the electric blue of his eyes. As the seconds ticked by in the silent darkness. Stiles kept opening his mouth to say something, but no words would find their way free.

Then the touch is gone and Joshua is scrambling away from him, moving back to his place by the fire. Stiles watched him; Joshua drawing his long limbs up, knees pressing to his chest, arms wrapping tight around them. He doesn't look as Stiles, instead hanging his head, long hair concealing his features.

"Thanks, Buddy." Stiles finally said quietly, his whole body relaxed once more.

Joshua looks over at him shyly. "Your welcome, _Buddy_."

"Hell of a gift, you've got there." Joshua lowered his head further and Stiles shuffled closer to the flames. "My friends, they can take away pain, but only in the physical sense, you know."

"I take pain. Inside." Joshua muttered, looking up once again through is hair and tapped at his chest.

His eyes have returned to their natural colour, and Stiles is just dying to ask about them, but he doesn't. "That's awesome man." Stiles grinned at him, attempting to reassure the large werewolf that he wasn’t scared, or angry.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a long while, the only sound around them that of the crackling flames and their companions breathing. Stiles poked at the small fire with a stick and winced when his stomach rumbled. Looking down, he pressed his palm against his gut. "Man," he moaned, "I would kill for some Curly Fries. The first thing I'm doing when I get home is get a huge order." His words were punctuated by another louder rumble.

"Curly - fries?" Joshua quizzed, shaking back his hair to meet Stiles gaze.

"You've ever had curly fries?" Stiles gaped, horrified, "Oh man, they're awesome. The food of the gods. Best thing to ever be created. There aren't words, man." He shook his head, "You're gonna love 'em, I swear." he grinned at the werewolf. "Just as soon as we get home, my treat."

Joshua grinned at him, face lighting up with excitement and joy. "Curly. Fries."

 

 

___(*_*)___

 

 

They crossed the border two days ago and everyone was tired. It seemed like months instead of days since they escaped the clutches of Manticore. 9 days and 6 hours to be precise.

The snow was getting thicker, and the cold was biting that much deeper. Stiles had stopped feeling his toes three days ago. “Alec?” Stiles sighed warily, jogging up to the man’s side, Case once again stretched across his back.

The X5 barely looked at him, eyes continuing to scan their surroundings. “What is it?”

“We need to stop man.” Stiles groaned, bumping up Case as he began to slip, the kid’s arms weak from the cold. “Preferably somewhere dry and warm.”

That got the man’s attention and he spared Stiles a scathing look, “Sure. We’ll just stroll into the next town and hire a room at the local hotel.”

“Hardy Ha Ha.” Stiles scoffed flatly, glaring at the X5, “Sarcasm ain’t gonna work on me, I’m completely immune to it. – And I’m serious. We’re all completely wrecked dude. The weather is getting worse, not to mention we’re nearly out of food.”

Alec finally stopped walking, turning to Stiles with a frustrated look. “It’s been a week.” He grunted, frustrated. “We’re trained to last months in worse weather than this, and with less resources.”

“You. _You’re_ trained.” Stiles interrupted angrily, glaring at the man. “We’re not soldiers.” He jerked his head in the direction of the others. “We weren’t trained for anything like this.”

“Speak for yourself.” Malia scoffed.

Stiles shot her a hard look before turning back to the X5. “Fine, _I_ wasn’t trained for this. Not to mention…” he jostled Case on his back meaningfully. “Joshua had been held in a damn cell god only knows how long…”

“A long time.” The werewolf informed them.

“Right.” Stiles nodded. “Liam? You get survivalist training?”

The younger teen shook his head.

Alec rolled his eyes and exhaled a long sigh. “A week. You can’t last a week?” he muttered, shaking his head.

“I was raised in California, okay man. My body is not acclimatized to this kind of cold. I’m practically numb from the waist down. Let’s just find a damn barn or something, thaw out a little.”

Alec shook his head, glaring at the teenager. “Do you want to get home or not? We can’t keep stopping every 50 miles. We keep walking.”

“But…”

“You’ll be fine, trust me. You’re built for this.” With that Alec turned his back on them and marched ahead.

Stiles groaned, looking back to the others. “Thanks for the back-up guys.” He grumbled.

Kira smiled at him sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Theo grinned at him obnoxiously, “You’re most welcome.” He huffed out, marching off to catch up with Alec.

Stiles gritted his teeth, “First snow drift we come to, man.” He warned in a low voice.

Theo just winked back at him while walking backwards.

“It _has_ only been a week Stiles.” Malia huffed, rolling her eyes as she headed towards him. “Alec’s right, we’re built for this.”

“You might be, but I hate the cold. My feet are wet and frozen, and we haven’t slept in days. I’m not used to this kind of abuse. I was born in California.”

“So was I doofus.” Malia scoffed, rolling her eyes, “You don’t see me complaining.”

“Yeah, well…. Well, you’re….” Stiles stuck out his tongue and span around, almost losing his footing in the snow. He would have toppled over under the weight of Case on his back and his own clumsiness had it not been for Kira and Malia’s fast reflexes.

“God, Stiles.” Malia groaned, setting him back on his feet, while Kira lifted Case off his back. “Are you sure you’re one of us.”

“Hey, it’s snow.” He gestured angrily at the ground. “It’s slippery okay.”

“Keep moving!” Alec yelled from a few feet away.

“I’ll keep moving alright?” Stiles grumbled shooting the man a glare, “I’ll move my foot right up your ass.”

Kira and Malia snorted.

 

___(*_*)___

 

As if in answer to Stiles prayers, thirty-two hours later they stumble across a cabin. “Oh, thank you Lord.” Stiles sighs dramatically in relief.

“We’ll track back the way we came…”

“What?” Stiles glared at Alec in disbelief and betrayal. “Why the fuck? This place is empty.” He waved angrily at the snow covered cabin. “No one’s likely been up here in months.”

“Probably since the snow started.” Kira helpfully added, earning her a smile from Stiles, and a glare from Alec.

“Yeah. So why not take advantage, man? Have you never heard it’s rude to look a gift horse in the mouth? Well it is buddy. Very, very rude. So let’s not be rude to the horse, okay.” Stiles ranted, hands flipping around aimlessly.

Alec stared at him with a mixture of frustration and pure bafflement. “You talk too much.” He finally grunted out, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t change the subject.” Stiles snapped, making a show of rubbing his hands together and shivering dramatically. “We all need to warm up, and who knows, there might be food. Warm, semi-delicious food.” As if on cue everyone’s stomachs rumbled, including Alec’s.

Alec glanced between them all and sighed, shaking his head. “Fine.” He groaned. “You stay here until me and Joshua check it out.” He jerked his head for Joshua to follow him, which the giant werewolf did easily.

Stiles grinned happily, watching the pair stopping off towards the cabin. He shivered, for real this time, and looked back to the others. Kira smiled at him while pulling Case closer to her chest. The little boy’s head resting on her shoulder. “You okay there, little man?” Stiles asked softly, eyes searching the kid’s face.

Case didn’t even open his eyes. “He’s been sleeping a lot.” Malia commented.

“It’s his body trying to conserve energy.” Liam said matter-of-factly, causing everyone to look at him in surprise. “What?” He frowned.

Stiles smirked, “Nothing. Just funny, you know that but have never heard of the Karate Kid.” The girls snorted at the reminder of a conversation two days previous.

“My dad was a doctor, okay.” Liam snapped defensively, turning away from them.

Stiles and the girls instantly sobered, while Theo glared at them. “Nice one, big mouth.” Theo snapped, moving closer to the younger teen.

“Blow me, Dickwod.” Stiles spat, flipping the guy off.

“You just keep changing your mind, don’t you?” Theo smirked seductively.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, just stop dude. I’m not interested. I’ll never be interested.” Stiles all but shouted.

Theo opened his mouth to speak again, only to be cut off by Joshua’s return. “All safe. Come.” He waved.

Kira didn’t hesitated, hurrying forward, arms tightening around Case’s small body, even as her own shook. Liam moved at the same moment, the pair hurrying towards the shelter of the cabin. Malia followed after her, tugging on Stiles arm. “Come on. You wanted to get warm.”

Still glaring furiously at Theo, Stiles allowed Malia to practically drag him into the small wooden cabin.

As it turned out, it wasn’t any warmer inside than out, but at least there was no wind, and there was food. Stiles grinned smugly at Alec, who stared back at him, unimpressed.

As everyone made themselves comfortable, Alec headed for the door. “We need wood for the fire. Stiles.”

Looking up from his seat on a rickety chair, his shaking fingers reaching for his laces. “What?”

“You’re coming with me.”

“What?”

“You wanted to stop.”

“Yeah, so I could get _out_ of the cold. I don’t want to go rifling back through the snow.”

Alec didn’t bother arguing with him, instead he gripped the back of Stiles jacket and yanked him out of the seat, causing Stiles to almost fall on his face. Leaping to his feet, the teenager shot the man a murderous look and prepared to fight the X5. He was stopped by a small sad whimper and his head snapped around to see Case, still huddled in Kira’s arms, Joshua doing his best to share his body heat. _Pack comes first._ Derek whispered in his head. And as insane as it was to Stiles, this rag-tag group of transgenics were kind of like his pack now, right?

Straightening his back, he turned back to Alec. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Alec’s eyes widened with surprise as Stiles marched past him.

It took them almost an hour to track down enough dry wood to actually start a decent fire. The whole task was conducted in silence, Stiles surprisingly quiet as he focused on looking for fallen branches and twigs. As he worked, his mind kept itself busy, as it had done for months, with thoughts of home and his life in Beacon Hills. - Most prominently, he couldn’t stop thinking about his mom.

It wasn’t until they were on their way back to the cabin that Stiles finally decided to broach the subject that had been on his mind for day’s now. Licking at his cold and chapped lips, he tightened his grip around the pile of wood in his arms and voiced his question. “Do you know who my father is?”

Alec stared at him, seemingly surprised by the question. “What?”

“My father. My mom was already pregnant when she escaped Manticore, so it was obviously someone there. If you knew my mom, then you must know…”

“Firstly, she didn’t _escape_ Manticore, she was let go, along with the others.”

“What about you?”

Alec lowered his eyes, exhaling. “I – I was recaptured.”

“Recaptured?” Stiles frowned, confused.

Alex sighed, a plume of warm air creating a cloud in front of him. “Manticore was a private project, until the military heard about what Father was doing? As the military is want to do, they ‘persuaded’ Father they could help, if he promised to share his results. Money and time was running out, so Father agreed. He had no idea until it was too late that the government and military had been infiltrated by members of Stheno’s cult. Luckily he was able to hold them at bay long enough to succeed in his plan, but it meant giving them what they wanted.”

“Stheno? Like the Gorgon?” Stiles gaped, drawing to a halt to stare at the X5.

Alec nodded, refusing to stop and elaborate. “Only what they didn’t know, is we weren’t built to be _their_ army. We were trained to fight Stheno’s followers, the emissaries and werewolves. By the time we’d reached our mid-teens, the military were growing impatient. Father discovered they were planning to take over the project, and he knew that once they did, everything he’d worked for would be lost. So, in order to secure his plan Father manufactured a breakout. Twelve of us ‘escaped’, at least that’s what Father told everyone, but it was actually twenty-four. While your mom and the other’s got away, some of us were ‘recaptured’ and returned to Manticore.”

“So, you got caught on purpose.” Stiles muttered, matching Alec’s pace once more, “That’s…” he shook his head, surprisingly unable to find the right words.

“The military took over Manticore, the cult placed their people in charge. They believed they’d recaptured _all_ the escapees. Father’s research was destroyed, and we were reprogramed.”

“You don’t seem reprogramed?” Stiles said carefully, eyes searching the older man’s features, suddenly nervous.

“Oh, believe me, I was.” Alec exhaled, tone filled with pain and regret. “I…” he trailed off, seeming to become lost in his own mind. “As for your father,” he said, clearing his throat, “He wasn’t from Manticore.”

Stiles stopped once again, brows drawn tightly together, his heart racing. “Then who…?”

Alec finally drew to a halt and turned to look at the kid. “I…” He shook his head, “I don’t know why she didn’t tell you, but…your father is your father.”

Stiles stared at him, eyes narrowing. “Wow, cryptic. You and Deaton are going to…”

“I mean, your father, the man who raised you. He’s your father. Genetically.”

The world seemed to fall deathly silent as Stiles stared at him, confused. His heart beat frantically in his throat and he could feel his hands beginning to tremble. The taste of copper was settling against the back of his tongue and he blinked repeatedly, fighting off the encroaching white. It had to be a joke. A sick, fucked up joke. Alec was screwing with him, because there was no way his mom wouldn’t have told them. Right?

“Stiles?”

He shook his head. “No. It can’t be. She would have t-told m-me. S-she w-would have t-old h-him.” He stammered, his legs beginning to turn to water beneath his weight. “S-she would have…”

“Stiles!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been so long. I wasn’t sure whether to have Stiles find out here or later, so I tossed a coin. I hope this chapter wasn’t too back, it’s been hell to write, for some reason. Anyway, I’ll try not to take so long getting the next one up. In the meantime, feedback is always welcome. Thanks.


	8. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a multi POV chapter.

Derek watched them closely as the pair sat on their bunks, separated only by a set of iron bars. Every now and then, Parrish would lift his eyes to meet Derek's own, acceptance and sadness in their depths. He'd been dropping by every few hours for the past three days. Just on the off chance that the sheriff had somehow managed to get something out of them.

The sound of footsteps and tired groans caught his attention, and he shoved himself off the desk. The door to the cells opened, interrupting their silence, and one of the deputies dragged in an old man with blood spattering his chest, and bruising across his knuckles. Derek stared at him, nose wrinkled at the scent of blood and fury. In the past twenty-four hours the town had spiralled into chaos, as everyone began to panic.

He noticed Parrish and Braedon staring at the man as he was locked away, then Parrish looked over to Derek, a strange look in his eyes that sent a spark of fear through the Alpha. Almost as if the man was warning him of something.

Shaking off the feeling, Derek turned and followed the deputy out into the bullpen, where John was talking to the others. Everyone looked tired and worn down by current events, each sporting shadows beneath their eyes. Derek’s nose wrinkled again at the scent of anxiety and sickness, though it was almost impossible to detect over the strong scent of burning rubber that had drifted in from outside. Where many of the town’s cars had been firebombed, most likely by bored, possibly scared, teenagers. It had taken hours, and a fair bit of help from the pack, to get some semblance of order.

"Mr Teller said his old deasil truck was stolen overnight.” Deputy Travis informed warily, leaning back against the wall, arms folded over his chest. “He suggested it was William and Grace Quincy."

"Yeah, same report from the Maddox farm. Old work truck. Though they have no idea who took it." Deputy Denning added, dropping down with a grunt onto her desk chair and rubbing at her neck. ”Though Erik Shepherd’s place was silent as the grave."

Derek watched stress tighten the sheriff's shoulders, "Okay. I want a door to door." At the simultaneous groan, John glared at them all. "I want everyone accounted for. Go street by street. No one goes home until every house has been checked." The tiredness was clear in his tone and not a single person present was willing to argue. “Make sure they all know they’re will be an 8pm curfew.” He added firmly, then turned to head for his office.

Derek waited a few seconds, watching as the deputies all piled around the large map of the town on the wall, and started dividing up the streets. Then he headed for the Sheriff’s office, knocking lightly on the door.

His chest ached for John Stilinski. He was already stressed enough without all this madness going on around him. But then, this was his job, putting others before himself. – Just as Stiles did.

"Come in!" Came a choked out sound, and Derek shoved his way inside to find the older man in the middle off chugging down water, his face red and peppered with sweat. "Are you alright, Sir?"

When there was barely a mouthful of water left in the bottle, John lowered it, nodding, "Fine." He reassured. "Just tired." He tugged out his chair and took a seat, slouching lower he rubbed at his eyes, letting out a rough series of coughs.

"Are you sure? You don't look. .."

"I'm perfectly alright Hale. It's just a cold. "

Derek frowned, but ignored it. He was probably right, after all the sheriff hadn't exactly been looking after himself. Something that filled Derek with guilt. He should have been keeping an eye on him for Stiles.

"The pack could have done the head count," Derek said, lowering himself down into the chair opposite the older man. "We probably have a better way of finding out who's in town." He tugged at his ear while wrinkling his nose.

The Sheriff exhaled warily, "They need something to do, to keep them from going crazy too."

Derek gave an understanding nod and stared down at his folded hands, "They're still not talking." He muttered.

"I know." John grunted, leaning forward on his desk, "I had no idea Parrish could be so stubborn. - But then, so was Claudia." He huffed out a sad laugh.

"Stiles too." Derek added with a sorrowful smile.

"Must be a family trait." John said, then winced and dropped his head into his hands.

Ever since Parrish had revealed the truth of Stiles parentage, the Sheriff had been carrying around a near suffocating scent of hurt, anger and guilt. - The guilt was the strongest. It made Derek instincts whine with the need to fix it. To give comfort to a pack member. - And like it or not, willing or not, that was what John Stilinski was, pack. He'd earned the place, much as Stiles had.

"I can't believe she didn't tell me." John announced quietly. With no idea what to say in response, Derek remained silent. He probably wasn’t supposed to have heard that in the first place anyway. "If only I'd known."

"You would have treated Stiles better?" Derek heard himself say, wincing when the Sheriff's head snapped up. "I..."

"What exactly has my son told you?"

"Nothing," Derek lied, shaking his head and moving to get to his feet.

"Don't lie to me son, I can see it right there in your eyes. Did he say I was a terrible father?" Before Derek could dispute that, John continued, "Because I was. I've been an awful father. I let Claudia down. I let _Stiles_ down." His voice broke on the confession freely given.

Lowering himself back into the seat, Derek leant heavily forward on his knees, folding his hands in front of him. "Why?"

John frowned, "What?"

“Why were you so bad? - Why did you let him down?" There was a bite to his tone he hadn't intended to be there, "Did it really matter that he wasn't your son?"

"What? He _is_ my son. "

"I meant before. When you thought he was someone elses..."

"Stiles is my son." John snapped angrily, "He's _always_ been my son."

Derek flinched slightly at the furious venom in the man's voice, "Then why?"

John breathed deeply through his nose and shoved his chair back, getting to his feet. Slowly he paced over to the inner office window, parting the blinds to look out at the now empty bullpen. "He's been getting in trouble since the day he could walk." John sighed, "Fights, pranks. Telling it like it was." He turned to face Derek, "Always drawing attention to himself. Claudia was the only one who could handle him. The only one he'd listen to. The only one who could keep him safe? - When she died, I... - I had no idea what to do. I'm just a human. I knew that when they came, just as Claudia always said they would, that I had no chance of protecting him. I couldn't go up against genetically enhanced, fully trained soldiers. So I guess I just tried to pretend none of it was real. But then Stiles began having the seizures, he became stronger and faster. - I was scared."

"Scared?” Derek frowned, "Of Stiles?" A small pulse of anger rippled through him.

John shook his head, "No. Scared _for_ him." He met Derek's gaze, almost pleading with him to understand and absolve him. "I was terrified. Always looking over our shoulders, always waiting for them to come. All I wanted was for Stiles to be normal. – I mean, pretend to be normal. To hide what he was, what he could do, but he never…" He exhaled a long breath. It began to eat away at me, so I worked more, I figured if I was around the office, or out there, I would see them first. – It was hard, the constant stress. – I - I started to drink. Did he tell you that? "

Derek shook his head.

"If I wasn't working, I was drinking," John confessed, "and Stiles was forced to care for himself. - By the time I sorted myself out…" He shrugged, unable to find the words for how fractured his relationship had become with his son. "I guess it's no surprise then that he kept...well, _everything_ from me."

Lowering his gaze, Derek slumped back in his chair. "He was trying to protect you."

"It's not his job to protect _me_."

"He doesn't see it that wa..." Derek trailed off, turning his head to stare at the office window. Getting to his feet, he marched to the door, yanking it open. John hurriedly stepping up to his side. "Argent?" The pair said with surprise.

The hunter calmly looked between the two men. "Sheriff, we need to talk. - In private." He added, eyes fixed meaningfully on Derek.

Derek couldn’t keep the irritation to himself, leading to a soft growl filling the silence, his eyes flashing red at the hunter. “What are you doing back?” He demanded, heightening his stance.

“Sheriff?”

“We’ve been trying to get hold of you for months, why are you suddenly showing up now?” John asked suspiciously, his arms folded over his chest.

Christopher looked between the two men and raised a brow. “You know?” he exhaled.

John’s only reply came in the form of a stiff nod and a hard challenging look. As if daring the hunter to attack Derek.

“Well, that makes this a little easier.” Christopher smiled, “I still need to talk to you in private.”

Derek let out another low growl, and was surprised when the Sheriff said, “If it’s about Stiles, Derek’s entitled to hear whatever you have to say.”

The room fell silent once more as Argent looked between them again, frowning in slight confusion, “You’re not answerable to him simply because he’s the Alpha.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at the insinuation, “Unlike some people, I don’t take over towns.”

The jibe hit the right nerve, and Derek felt a small spark of satisfaction when Christopher flinched and the scent of guilt filled the air. The pack had gone through a lot at the hands of the Argents, and he wasn’t going to just forgive and forget.

John looked between them curiously, “What’s that meant to mean?”

“It’s not important anymore.” Derek said easily. There was no need for the Sheriff to know just how deeply the Argents had infiltrated Beacon Hills. As far as John knew, Gerald and Victoria Argent were perfectly qualified to take up positions in the school.

No one spoke for a few more seconds until finally, John locked gazes with Christopher Argent, “Do you want to talk or not?”

With a lingering cautious look at Derek, Chris nodded. Exhaling a tired sigh, John turned and led the way into the office. “After you.” Derek said, waving for Argent to precede him. Because like hell was he turning his back on the hunter.

Reluctantly, Chris followed after the Sheriff. Once in the office he made for the window, hovering in front of it while Derek closed the door and turned, arms folded as he stood guard in front of it. John strolled casually over to perch on the edge of his desk, mirroring Derek’s defensive body language.

“So?” Was all John said, turning untrusting eyes on the hunter.

Christopher slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket and exhaled a long breath. “It’s about Stiles. - Scott called me about him being missing, asked me to help.”

John shot Derek a confused look, “I thought you said Scott couldn’t get hold of him?”

“That’s what he told me.” Derek seethed, claws biting into the sleeves of his jacket. Chris shuffled on his feet, suddenly discomforted by the sudden tension in the room. “Did you find him?” Derek demanded, taking a small eager step forward.

Argent exhaled a long regretful breath, “I found where he was being held, but by the time I got there…” He shook his head, “The place was on fire.”

Derek’s stomach plummeted, twisting painfully. Staggering away from the door, he dropped down onto the couch, head in his hands.

“Oh my god.” John moaned breathlessly.

“I’m sorry.” Argent whispered sincerely, watching the Sheriff with tear filled eyes.

“Are you sure he was there?” John asked desperately.

Chris nodded sadly, “Yes.”

Derek shook his head, he couldn’t believe it. He _didn’t_ believe it. He’d know if Stiles were dead. He’d feel it. “No.” He snapped, leaping to his feet. “ _No_.”

“Derek.” John sighed tearfully, voice breaking around the name.

“No! He’d not dead.” Derek practically roared, turning to Chris. Before the man could react, Derek had him pressed against the window, hand around his throat, features shifted in fury. “You’re lying.”

Argent held his gaze, calmly, “Why? Why would I lie?”

“Because you’re one of them.” Derek spat, fingers tightening around the hunter’s throat. “You’re working for them, just like your father and Kate.”

Christopher frowned, “Who?”

“Derek, let him go.” John ordered, attempting to yank Derek off the hunter. “Derek!”

“He’s lying.”

“I’m not.” Chris wheezed, his face slowly losing its colour. “You _know_ I’m not.” He glared up at Derek, “Listen to my heartbeat.”

As much as Derek hated it, he couldn’t hear any hint of a lie. He let out a gut wrenching roar and tore himself away from the hunter, putting as much distance between them as possible. His heart tearing apart in his chest. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Not again.

Ripping open the office door, Derek rushed out, ignoring the Sheriff’s calls. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t care who saw him as he burst out of the Sheriff’s department, features still contorted. Turning in the direction of the woods he ran and ran. Tears burning at his eyes. It was his fault. He should have done more to protect Stiles. Just as he should have protected Paige and his family.

 

__(8)__

 

 

It never got any better waking up from one of his seizures. His body felt as if it had gone through a wood chipper, after being run over by an 18 wheeler. His head was pounding and his body felt so weak he couldn’t even open his eyes.

As his brain slowly came back online, he began to register his surroundings. The warmth was the first thing he noticed. A cosy warmth that he usually associated with his grandmother’s house. There was also the same scent of burning wood hanging in the air. If it weren’t for the quiet voices and the smell of beans, not to mention the uncomfortable bed beneath him, he could almost believe that he was back in that small cottage. – There was also the fact that his grandmother had died three years ago, so nope, definitely not his grandma’s house.

After the warmth, scent and voices, Stiles registered a weight against his back, snuggled up close. Smaller than him. _Case. Obviously._ That explained why he was on the edge of the bed, rolled on his left side.

As the heaviness of exhaustion faded, Stiles tried to force open his eyes. It took a few seconds, but eventually he was able to see blurry shapes and the bright soft glow of the fire.

“Looks like Sleeping Beauty’s finally away.” Theo huffed out.

When Stiles vision finally cleared, he was able to see that the dick-wod was sat on the floor, back to the wall, sharing a ratty old grey blanket with Malia, and Liam. There he was, smirking his obnoxious grin, between the pair, their heads resting on his shoulder, Liam fast asleep while Malia looked over at Stiles.

If Stiles hadn’t been so completely wrecked, he had rolled his eyes harder than anyone has ever rolled their eyes in all of existence.

As it was, he just sighed warily and looked away, seeking out Kira. His gaze found her instantly, her worried face turned to him as she scrambled to her feet, Joshua helping her with a slight push. She’d clearly been snuggling close to him, which for some ridiculous reason, made Stiles happy.

“Stiles? How are you feeling?” She asked, hurrying over to him and crouching down beside the cot.

Exhaling a long breath, he let out a soft groan and forced himself up, careful not to disturb Case, who was indeed sleeping behind him. He looked down at the boy with a soft look.

“He wouldn’t sleep anywhere else.” Kira said apologetically.

Stiles smiled warmly and shook his head, “Its fine.” Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Stiles leant forward, letting his head fall into his hands. “Fuck, my head.” He muttered, rubbing at his temples.

“Here.” Kira said gently, handing him a glass of water and two pills. “Found them in the med kit under the bed.”

Looking up with a grateful smile, Stiles took the painkillers and swallowed them down. “Where’s Alec?” he asked, looking around the cabin and finding no sign of the man.

“Patrolling.” Malia answered from across the room.

“He dragged your ass back here and sent me and Mal to grab the wood.” Theo informed him, clearly disgruntled at having to actually do something.

Stiles inclined his head at Malia, completely ignoring Theo, as usual.

“He said you had a seizure?” Kira asked quietly, kneeling in front of him.

Stiles shrugged, “It happens, sometimes.”

Kira nodded, “Me too. Usually when I’m stressed or worked up about something.”

It was pretty obvious that Kira, and probably the others, would suffer from the seizures too. They all came from the same fucked up recipe right? However, Stiles couldn’t help but feel a little surprised at the announcement. He smiled down at her. “Sucks, right?”

Kira smiled, nodding.

“You eat.” Joshua said, thrusting a bowl in Stiles face. “Need to be strong. I go tell Alec you awake.”

Despite feeling famished for the past few days, Stiles wasn’t all that eager to fill his stomach. He took the bowl anyway with a grateful smile and watched as Joshua marched to the door, his hand brushing over Kira’s head as he passed. “How long was I out?” Stiles asked, feeling as if he’d missed something important.

“Just a few hours.” Kira smiled. “He’s right, you need to eat.”

Stiles looked down at the bowl and felt his insides squirm, “Thanks, but I’m just…”

“You need to eat. We can’t hide out here forever.”

“Yeah. Alec didn’t want to stop in the first place.” Theo reminded him with a challenging look.

Stiles glared over at the other teen and narrowed his eyes. Theo simply smirked, stretching his arm around Liam, pulling him a little closer. Stiles looked between them for a long minute before shaking his head and focusing on Kira. Whatever was going on with those three, wasn’t his problem. All he cared about was getting home to Derek and his pack. Which was why he reached down and lifted the bowl of cold beans and began to force them past his dry chapped lips.

It didn’t take him long to empty the bowl, once he’d gotten past the taste of congealed tomato sauce. It was almost as if his stomach suddenly remembered what food was. By the time Kira was taking it to fetch him another, the wooden door was swinging open, filling the warm cabin with a burst of icy cold winter air. Alec marched in alone, his eyes instantly falling on Stiles. Making his way over slowly, he stared down at him. “How are you feeling?”

Stiles looked up and nodded, “Fine. Better.”

“Good.” Alec said stiffly. “I’m – I’m sorry, for what I – I shouldn’t have dropped that bombshell on you like that.”

Stiles shrugged, “I asked.” Over the past twenty minutes or so, the conversation with Alec had begun to play over in his head. His father wasn’t simply the man who raised him, but was his honest to god father. They shared DNA. Stiles couldn’t quite figure out how he felt about it. On one hand, there was no reason for his dad to hate him anymore. On the other, Stiles wasn’t sure he could just forget everything that had gone on between him and his dad. All the looks and drunken allegations. All the secrets and lies that had passed between them over the years.

Alec stared down at him for a few more seconds before turning to face the whole room. “We’re leaving at dawn.”

“What?” Stiles snapped, “Come on, man. I’ve just woken up. I’ve only had…”

“We’re leaving.” With that, Alec turned on his heels and marched out of the cabin once more.

Stiles sighed and accepted the fresh warm bowl of beans from Kira. “Thanks.”

 

_(8)_

 

Derek had felt heartbreak before. He'd felt rage. The way his insides felt as if they were being torn apart, was an old friend. His heart pounding in his ears. His blood racing through his veins at such a speed, it burned. Everything around him was red and deafening.

As he ran through the woods, putting as much distance between himself and Argent as he could, because if he stayed, god, he didn't think he'd be able to control the blaze building up inside him.

What had taken the man so long? Two months he'd had to locate Stiles. Why so long? Was it punishment for what he'd done to Argent's wife? Had he really been too late, or had he stood by and watched the place burn? Just as Kate had done.

He was cursed to lose those he loved to flames.

Running on and on through the dark, Derek allowed his instincts free reign. Ignoring the cry within reminding him that he still had people who loved him, people who depended on him. He didn't care. They were better off without him. Safer.

The sky darkened above him the further into the woods he went. No idea where he was going, and not caring. The dark and cold could have him.

He felt earth shift beneath his feet as a white hot pain shot through his body. Stealing his breath and making his mind implode.

_“Not that you were much of an Alpha to begin with. How could you think to lead when you do not even understand your enemies, nor the power that courses through your veins? You are weak, and thus, were never a match for me.”_

A howl ripped through the air, silencing the chaos in his mind.

 

_(8)_

 

The sky was a greyish blue, tainted with dusty pink as they all piled out of the cabin, wrapped up once more in their stolen clothes. Stiles stared sleepily up at the heavy dark clouds with a sense of doom. He'd barely slept, at least not since waking up after his seizure. But that was the thing, despite being unconscious, he'd woken feeling more tired than he had in days.

When he had attempted to get some proper sleep, curled up beside Case, he'd been troubled by dreams. Tormented by both the plane crash, and the murderous chaos he'd left behind in Beacon Hills, with Derek at their center.

He’d woken with a start. A violent shiver passing through his whole body and the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. His ears had continued to ring with the sound of an agonized roar that caused his heart to race uncontrollably, tears rolling down his cheeks.

There had been no getting back to sleep after that. Instead, he’d found himself a space by the window and watched the sky grow lighter with each passing hour. By the time Alec had returned a little before the sun had broken through, Stiles whole body felt like it was once again a lead weight.

Now, he and the others were traipsing through the thick snow, following their self-proclaimed leader. Alec had returned that morning, antsy and eager to leave. – More eager than usual. – He’d hurried them through collecting their things, not that they had much, and then practically marched them at speed out of the cabin. All Alec had said, was they needed to hurry, which filled them all with fear. Stiles had attempted to get answers out of the X5, but Alec, as always, wasn’t particually keen on answering them.

They hadn’t been walking long before Stiles realise that instead of heading deeper into the woods, they were heading towards civilization.

“Hey, I thought we were meant to be avoiding people.”

Alec didn’t answer, continuing to march forwards, his weapon clasped in both hands, ready if needed.

“Where are we going?” Stiles demanded loudly, jogging up to the man’s side. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Finally Alec turned to regard him, cool and composed. “We’re taking too long.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Okay.” Stiles dragged out, confused. “So?”

“So, we’re taking a bus.”

Stiles gaped at the man, eyes searching his face, looking for a hint of a joke and seeing nothing. “Are you – serious?”

Alec gave him a sharp nod.

“A bus?”

Rolling his eyes, Alec focused ahead of him. “We won’t all fit in a car.”

“Right. Of course. Obviously.” Stiles muttered, frowning at the man, then looking back to the others. He met Kira’s gaze and she shrugged, shifting Case on her back.

“Won’t we all be a bit…conspicuous? Especially…?” he jerked his thumb back to Joshua.

Alec rolled his eyes and exhaled. “We’re not taking a public bus, moron.” He grumbled, obviously frustrated, “I found an old school bus.”

“Found?”

The look on Alec face told the truth of the batter. “Oh, you mean you plan to steal a school bus?”

“You have a probably with that?”

Stiles made of show of looking thoughtful, then he grinned, “School bus. Cool. – At least we’ll be out of the cold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been so long, but I’ve been struggling with this chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> So that’s it, the first chapter. How are we all doing? Always eager to hear what you think. I don’t know how often I’ll be posting chapters, as I’m currently having issues with my internet provider, meaning I have to use either the public library, or hike to my aunts to borrow hers. So this may be slow going, until everything is sorted out. Sorry.


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